The Wolf and The Jackal: ACIII
by MetalSetter
Summary: 16 year old Courtney is sent back to the 18th century by means she doesn't quite understand. Days after arriving, she finds herself rescued from death via dehydration by none other than Shay Patrick Cormac. Confused, alone, and a little scared, Courtney proceeds to alter history as she knows it. (Rating changed from T to M for canon-typical graphic violence later on in the story.)
1. Prologue

I couldn't breathe enough. Each strangled wheeze made my heart skip another beat. I'd practiced parkour many times before, but all of this was too much. I could hear them behind me-shouting, organizing, gaining. I was no more than a frantic animal, while they were trained killers. I couldn't possibly put up a proper fight against them.

I ducked under another fallen branch. A right, another right, a left at a flash of red. I lept over rocks, bushes, logs-anything in my undetermined path.

I skidded to a stop at the sound of water.

I couldn't swim well, but if I had to choose between the red-clad men with guns and water… At least the water's quiet.

I took a look back, I'd remained here, slumped over, for five seconds already. They'd catch up eventually, find me, take me back to… to wherever it is I just ran from.

 _Crack!_

My head whipped to look at the source of the sound, and my eyes were level with a bayonet, with the narrowed eyes behind them. The face, though flushed, looked pale next to the crimson coat he donned. My decision was made.

As I dropped into the water, the past 24 hours flew through my mind.

Waking up, eating breakfast, school, working on ceramics. A brief conversation with my dad in the car, retreating to my room to wash off makeup before going on a walk. A flash of gold, ringing in my ears- _color doesn't have a sound-_ , a compulsion to touch it, to pick it up, to feel it. The inability to not obey. A flash of gold turned to a flash of light, a shortness of breath turned to my lungs being crushed- _light doesn't do that_.

Yelling, startled men, weapons that were ancient to me, but modern to them. Red, red, red- _green_. I bolt, I leap over a table covered in mechanisms I'd never seen, maps underneath them like carpet in a room.

Nothing but instinct, get away from the noise get away from the danger. What happened? Where am I? Where is home? Why did I do that?

Questions, questions, questions. Not enough time to dwell on them. A chase by demons, then a plunge.

My lungs screamed for air more than before, current grabbing hold of me and trying to drag me under. I fought for purchase, and found none. What must have been seconds felt like minutes, and my scrabbling hands connected with dirt, I clawed my way towards it, grabbed it, anchored myself after my head broke the surface. I crawled away from the water, clung to the ground. _I need to get dry, I need to get warm._ The sun was bright, the air was cold. I forced myself up and stumbled towards more forest, making poor progress between being water-logged and chilled.

After hours of walking through the forest, after night had fallen and I'd decided to make my way to a cluster of distant lights, my stomach growled.

I miss home.

 _ **Heyyy! So, after more than two years, I'm returning to this thing and not continuing it, but completely rewriting it! My writing style has changed a bit, and updates might be sporadic, but I have new ideas and the plot will likely be way different from the original. We'll be seeing some familiar faces as time goes on, though, so don't worry about any original characters like Greg being taken out! I look forward to seeing where this goes!**_


	2. Chapter 1: Elder

_Left, right, left, right, left, right._ I moved my feet, one after another. It was late by now, and I was numb. My clothes had dried at this point, but weren't thick enough to keep out even the light breeze now stirring them. Between the black skinny jeans, yellow tank-top, and dark-gray crop jacket, I was freezing.

I felt as though I was barely human with how dirty I was. My short, dark hair was repulsive-leaves, clods of dirt, sticks, and whatever else was caught up in it, and it seemed that my short locks only encouraged the disarray by twisting around it as far as it could. My pale skin looked three shades darker and greyer in most areas. Dark brown eyes were droopy, irritated and red by what filth had worked its way into them. Blinking didn't help; I felt tiny debris, sharp as needles, piercing my corneas under my eyelids.

I could barely register my own fingers fiddling with one of my rings. My left ear throbbed dully. The thought that my stretched lobe piercings could very well be infected came to me, but I brushed it off. If I don't find shelter and a bath soon, it won't matter if it's infected or not. I'll die of thirst or starvation or cold before that.

Light peaked behind houses-no, not all of them were houses: buildings, then?-and stone blockades, less than a mile away. I thanked the spirits that I'd grown accustomed to hiking, else I'd have fallen to my knees many more times than I had. Three days on a road, three days without food, two without water. I'd left behind any water long ago. I wasn't entirely upset about that.

My feet struck the beaten dirt path, and I willed myself not to surrender to exhaustion quite yet. Someone would help me. Someone would have to. Someone would do something good- _people don't do things like that for strangers_ -and I would be safe. I'd be warm- _I'm freezing_ -, and fed- _I can't feel the growling anymore_ -, and clean- _grime isn't so bad, I guess_ -, and I'd get medical attention- _doctors are expensive. They won't help me._

I heard a rough, heavily accented voice. I couldn't place my finger on what it was. It was growly, low, but it didn't seem mean. Colors swam before my eyes, I couldn't focus. Tan, tan, brown, green, blue, tan, green, grey, grey, black, red- red? _Red._ I pushed at the voice, and vaguely registered falling, then not.

I felt pain.

So much pain. Not from wounds, but from hunger, clawing at my insides like a beast, hell-bent on escaping its prison so it could feed. My mouth was dry- _we don't need water, bad, bad, bad_ -, and I was warm. So _warm_. I turned over, moved my lips to tell the creature in my stomach to rest, to quiet down. A quiet, broken noise came out instead.

I felt, rather than heard, the creaking of something massive. I tried to lift my head, couldn't. Tried again, just as much luck. I heard someone say something, and I felt the cold touch of human skin. Someone I hadn't seen turned me on my back again, and I looked into the blurred face of an elderly man. He offered me a smile, and spoke, but I couldn't register it very well. I stared at him blankly.

He sighed and picked something up. I felt something against my lips, and let it pour down my throat. Water. I wanted to gag for the briefest of seconds, remembering how it constricted my lungs and filled them up at the same time. But I didn't. When I felt it move away, I managed a strangled whine. Elder smiled once more, and said something again. I stared at him again.

We continued like this for a while. Slowly, he began giving me something else, too. Something quite bland, but with more taste than water. I wanted to vomit once or twice. But I didn't do that, either. I heard another creak, and Elder looked across me. I wanted to look, too, but he gently moved my face so that I was swallowing whatever it was that was in the bowl. At any other time, I'd feel pathetic, but after my ordeal, I was grateful to have anything at all. My ego took a back seat-for now.

I listened, though. It was hard to make out words, but the speaker had the same rough, low, accented voice. It sounded like a mix between Irish and American.

Accent left after a few minutes. Did he bring me here? I wanted to ask Elder, but I chided myself-I'm practically half dead, it can wait until I can see straight.

Elder took away the bowl. I sighed-a weak sound, still, but improvement nonetheless. He smiled at me, said something about rest, and left. With nothing to appease me, and unconsciousness seeming more pleasant than pain, I drifted off once more.

When I woke up, I was alone. My vision was better, and I could hear water. I could hear it everywhere. I shivered. The four walls, floor, and ceiling were wooden and undecorated. A lamp hung from the ceiling. The luxurious bed I lied upon was hardly a cot, but damn if it didn't feel like something worthy of royalty to me.

I reluctantly left the bed; my body was draped in a shirt that looked grossly oversized on me. But it covered all the important bits, and that was more important. I felt dizzy and weak, but at least I wasn't naked. Optimism. I decided to stick to that.

I stood as still as I could for a moment-whatever I was on was moving, slowly rocking back and forth. How nauseating. I knew there was an explanation, though I didn't want to accept it. I'd wait until all other possibilities were exhausted.

I wasn't sure what I'd expected to find in the small room, though I was disappointed nonetheless when I found nothing more. I laid back down on the cot, and wrapped myself in the sheets. Just as I was slipping back into sleep, the door opened. I looked up.

I was greeted with the sight of wrinkles and a smile. "Well, it's about time you woke up, girl! Can you understand me, yet? Oh, you're probably still tired, I know, but I brought you breakfast. Can't miss a meal when you're recovering from dehydration, you know!" Elder. He was more excitable than I'd thought. Then again, it's difficult to make a proper judgement of someone when you're delirious.

I sat up and nodded my head. His smile widened-I would have said it was impossible five seconds ago. "Great! Really, it's absolutely delightful to see you awake. Oh! Dear me, I'm completely forgetting how confused you must be- waking up in a strange place with some old coot rambling about food." I nodded again and licked my lips before speaking in a crackling voice.

"Who brought me here?"

The rough words had just left my mouth when he answered. "The captain! Good man, that one. Only just in his forties, and looking nearly as good as he did in his twenties!" He winked. I offered a polite smile as he continued. "A bit more… stern now, since his old first mate left, but no matter. He saw you stumbling around all dirty outside Boston, asked if you were okay. Just barely managed to catch you before you hit the ground! Never seen a man move that fast at that age."

"Who _is_ the captain?" I asked as he took a breath. Kind as he was, Elder was a bit too talkative for me. I wished he'd get to the point.

He laughed, a loud sound that filled the room. "Oh, you'll meet him soon enough. He came in asking about you a few times, seemed awful interested in that burn on your hand." I stopped listening. Burn? What burn? I looked at my hands. Sure enough, the left had red lines seared into it. It didn't hurt, and that befuddled me.

Did it happen when I picked up… that thing? That golden thing had done something, but I couldn't tell what. All I knew was that I wasn't where I should be, and I suddenly missed home again.

"-but enough about that. You need to eat! It's nothing fancy, but you seemed to like it enough before, right-ah, oh, silly me! What's your name, girl?" I took the bowl and spoon.

"Courtney." I said. There's no need to say anything more. Not yet, anyway.

He pulled a face. "Courtney? Who'd name their daughter 'Courtney'? Your parents must've wanted a boy, you poor thing! Even cut your hair so short… Well, we'll grow it out, now, won't we?" I considered saying that I'd cut my hair like this. I nodded disinterestedly instead.

I learned Elder's name was Bruce Damcott. A second generation Dutch immigrant who made his living as a doctor on ships. He told me stories about his medical misadventures throughout the years, and if they were to be believed, he was good at his job and enjoyed it, too.

He'd never gotten married, and his parents had died along with his siblings when he was young. Adopted by another Dutchman, he learned medicine. He liked travel, and decided this was the best life for himself-lucky me, else I might be dead.

Of course, the confirmation that I was indeed on a ship made me nauseous, but I handled it. Ships were made to stay out of water. As long as the hunk of wood did its job, I'd be fine. I asked if I could go walk around before he left again, and he gently told me to stay in bed.

I sighed and resigned myself to a few hours of nothing.

 _ **Two chapters today!**_


	3. Chapter 2: The Captain

And nothing I did indeed do. Until a knock resounded through the room, and a man stepped through.

He wore intricately designed black and red clothing, layers upon layers of it. Belts, sash, coat, and vest over a simple white shirt, with black pants and boots. Numerous weapons could be spotted on his person-a sword, a knife, a rifle. His dark hair was tied back, and wrinkles lined his face. The most striking thing about him was the scar across one slightly narrowed brown eye. I knew who this was, but...The look on his face softened.

"How do you feel?" He offered the smallest of smiles. Yes, that was the right voice.

"Well enough, I guess." I sat up straighter cleared my throat. How was this happening?

"You look better than you did, for what it's worth." His eyes scanned me, settled on my hand. He frowned, cleared it from his face when he looked back up. "Think you'd be up for a little walk and chat?"

I tried to contain my emotions. The last few days- _how long was I out?_ -had been rough, and now I should be worried about getting home. Right now I _should_ be worried about what's going to happen. Instead, I'm trying to remain calm because I'm talking to who appears to be one of my favorite characters.

"Doctor Damcott said I should get some rest…" I trailed off. How was I supposed to word this? Spirits, if this is who I think it is, then I'm on a vessel belonging to…

He chuckled. "Captain's orders outrank the doctor's." He reached out a hand. "Shay Cormac, captain of the _Morrigan_."

Numbly, I took hold of his hand. He pulled me up, and led me out. The first thing I noticed was that I was significantly shorter than him-and smaller. It made sense, but it still made me uneasy. I had no idea what he was thinking right then. But he _was_ a good person, so I could trust him, right?

His feet thudded heavily on the floor, leading me down the hall. Men looked at me, and I did my best to brush it off. Only a few were leering, and some were casting suspicious looks-right, sailors were superstitious-the rest just seemed curious.

I was led into a room to the left, and handed my clothing. My _clean_ clothing. I looked up at Shay and was about to say something, then he nodded and turned around. I rushed to pull off the flimsy shirt, and more so to pull on my own garments. As I pulled on my combat boots over the thin pants, I wondered where all my possessions I'd had in my surprisingly large pockets were: pocket knives, wallet and chain, another chain-for decoration-, a pocket watch, keys, phone. A few other things, but those were the ones that came to mind.

I cleared my throat. Shay turned around, gestured for me to follow him again. I felt sick, and couldn't tell if it was my physical condition or my nervousness. He led me up, onto the deck.

I couldn't see due to sunlight at first. Some squinting and eye-rubbing later, I jogged to catch up to Shay, focusing on him and not the water. He opened the door to his cabin, and for a second, I hesitated. He turned and rose an eyebrow, nodded towards the inside of it. I walked in first.

The door shut behind me and I felt another wave of nervousness come over me.

"I'd offer you a seat, but I'm afraid there's only one here." He said, crossing the room and taking the seat behind the desk.

"It's fine. I prefer standing anyway." I managed a smile, trying to look reassured.

He looked like he was about to comment on my condition, but he didn't. "Works out well, then. Now, I have a few questions for you…"

"Courtney."

"Courtney." He clasped his hands in front of him. "Let's start with 'Where did you get that mark on your hand from?'"

 _ **As I said, the new version is going to deviate wildly from the old one. You'll all understand why I decided to have Shay save Courtney-it'll just take some time. On another note, I'm considering trying out beta-reading, approximately after chapter 5 or 6, when the story should start to pick up a little more. If you'd be interested, please send me a PM. Thank you!**_


	4. Chapter 3: Indebted

I swallowed hard. I considered his question for a moment. I could tell the truth, if he would believe it. I could lie. But I didn't want to, honestly. I was stressed, my mind was racing and even if I could pluck something coherent out of that mess, I doubted it would be anything convincing. Not to mention, if he found out later, I wasn't quite sure what he'd do. Shay'd seemed nice in-game, but then, that'd been his point of view, hadn't it? I didn't know what he'd do if I lied and he found out.

"It's… a long story, Captain Cormac." I held his gaze and searched his face, feeling overwhelmed by everything that had happened, and wanting desperately to know how close he was to getting the box. Was he looking for it in America? What was going on right now? What year was it? Certainly not before the 1780s, there were too many red-coats around who weren't getting shot at.

"Well, it's a good thing my schedule's all clear today." His tone was friendly, but his expression was blank.

I inhaled deeply, sighed, and wondered where to begin. With who I am? With where I'm from? With when I'm from? The golden... thing? I decided to start with the basics. Hoping he'd believe me.

"My name is Courtney," I started, feeling slightly embarrassed-I'd already told him my name. "and I'm a long way from home." He waited patiently for me to go on.

"A lot of what I'm going to tell you is… well, I doubt you'll believe it. But I suppose I should preface it by saying that I was born in the year 1999."

His eyes widened and then he smirked, "Really? And I'm King George himself." His face fell. "Stop joking around."

"Listen I know it sounds ridiculous but it's true, alright? Just-let me explain, okay?" The words came out in a rush. He had to believe me. I didn't know what to do if he didn't.

There was a tense moment. He sighed. "Very well. But I suggest you be very convincing."

I held down my worry and gave him a mildly relaxed grin. "I'll try my best, sir."

WwWwWwWwW

As I spoke, Shay listened intently. Every once in a while, his jaw would clench, or his fingers would flex ever so slightly. When I finished relaying my story, all of it, I was mentally and emotionally exhausted. It'd taken roughly thirty minutes to explain what I thought the most important things were-how I got here, where I was from, that I knew certain things about both the Assassins and the Templars that most people did not-, but the pressure I felt was immense.

We stood-he sat-in silence for a few moments. It seemed he was fitting it all together in his head, studying me, figuring out whether he should believe the absolute poppycock I'd just spewed.

He stood up and walked towards me. It took a certain amount of self-restraint to not back away; the man was intimidating. He reached towards my hand, stopped, looked at me, as though for permission. I nodded and raised my left hand up, so that he could look at it more closely.

His leather-clad hands were huge in comparison to mine, and I was once again reminded that he could probably kill me without breaking a sweat. His thumb ran over the burn marks, none of which hurt.

"So you have no idea what happened, aside from what you've told me?"

"Not a thing." I fought the urge to add _I swear_ to the end of that. It would sound too much like I was lying and hoping he'd fall for it. That's not what I wanted in the least.

He nodded absentmindedly, still surveying the damaged skin on my palm. He dropped my hand.

"You're aware that with all you know and where-" He paused. "- _when_ you're from, you'd be considered very valuable to either of our groups, right?" He said it like he was hinting at something.

I cleared my throat and straightened up. "I don't suppose I can just leave? That I could just…" I made a wiggly gesture with my unmarred hand. "-disappear into the masses and pose as some lonely farmer's only child?" I said it in a way that I hoped made it sound like a joke. He cracked a small, somewhat sad, smile.

"I'm afraid it wouldn't be that easy. If others were to find out that you knew what was going to happen, before it was even planned, you'd become a target." I shuffled my feet. He put a hand on my shoulder. "I'd prefer you be kept a close eye on, but I won't force your hand unless I need to."

"'Unless I need to' isn't very comforting, Captain Cormac."

"It's all I can promise." He said in an apologetic tone.

There was a moment of silence; this time I was the one to break it. "What happened?"

"Pardon me?"

"All I remember is feeling like shit, hearing your voice, and then passing out. How long was I out? Why did you bring me on your ship? Why did you have my clothes cleaned and the doctor tend to me? What happened?" I repeated my question, laying emphasis on it. I needed to know these things. They were important-to me if to no one else.

"Woah, woah, slow down." He said. I nodded. "You were out for two days. Your clothes were cleaned because they, like you, were filthy. I brought you here because of those marks on your hand, and because I knew there was a doctor who wouldn't turn you away."

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm the one paying him." He grinned. I fidgeted.

"I suppose I'm indebted to you a fair bit, then."

"I suppose you are." I couldn't help but think of how this complicated matters.

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, looking not unlike a poor imitation of a fish. "What do you want from me?"

He gave me another smile-I was coming to recognize this as his attempt to conceal what was likely laughter. "That information you mentioned would be nice." _Shit. Of course._ He walked back to his seat, sat down and propped his feet up on the desk. He gestured with his hands as he spoke. "For starters, where'd you get it? Were the documents of Templar or Assassin origin?" _You really don't want me to answer that._

"Neither…?" He raised an eyebrow. "Neither." I said more confidently. "An outside group compiled records of activities and events that could be linked to the Assassins or the Templars, and fitted them together in a type of format not yet invented." I figured I wasn't really lying. It was true that Ubisoft was an outside group, and my wording left quite a bit up to interpretation.

"Tell me more about this group." _Stop asking questions like this, I feel like I'm guilty of something._

"It is-will be, sorry-centered in France. It calls itself the largest producer worldwide of information in the format I mentioned. They tended to publish the information from the Assassins' point of view, but they made others in that of the Templars'."

"Hm. And I suppose there was a lot of information, then, about the Assassins?"

"Yes."

"Even some about Assassins during this time?"

My mouth went dry. I didn't want to say yes, but at the same time I knew I didn't have much choice in the matter. Unless I fancied death a fine escape. Shay was smart enough to see through any lie after I'd said that most of what I knew was told by the Assassins. "In America-er, the colonies and a bit in France." I felt like a coward for a moment, but pushed it away. I shouldn't be ashamed of trying to stay alive. If things go sour later on, I'll be alive. And I'll still have information that can help the Assassins.

"And you'd be willing to share it with myself and my colleagues?" His expression was hard, but not necessarily mean. Hopefully that was a good thing.

"If you'd like that." The words sounded hollow to me, but Shay seemed content with them.

"How much information will you be able to provide us with?"

"That depends on the date."

"6 October 1772."

I racked my memory. Most of the events in III had happened after 1772. Shay still hadn't gotten the box, yet. Was Arno born? Yes, he was born in the late 60's. Then Charles Dorian was alive, too-but I didn't know where he was. But I knew where he likely would be, in time.

"Quite a bit." Would it be worth it? One way or another, unless I directly interfered with Charles himself on 27 December 1776, he'd be killed. I'd feel guilty, like it was my fault. I knew it was going to happen, but if I didn't do anything to prevent it...

"How much time would you need to give us all of it?" _All of it? But there's so much…_

"Quite a while." I cleared my throat again. It was starting to hurt, and I was getting tired of standing. "I'm sorry, but can we cover that later? I'm… well, I'm tired." It seemed ridiculous to say that to a man who'd been through what he had, but he merely nodded.

He walked me to the door, instructed me to head back to my room for the rest of the day. Said Bruce would bring me lunch and dinner. I made a few wrong turns on my way back, but the crew, while rather stiff-lipped towards me, had a few members that were kind enough to point me in the right direction. Slumping down on the cot, I was reminded of the soft, pillow-laden bed I'd left behind.

I couldn't begin to imagine how any of this was happening. First, I'm sent back in time, then I meet a fictional character? That's not something that happens. Was it?

I couldn't say I was fond of most of my family, but my friends were a different story. Were they okay? Were they worrying? Did they even know I was missing? Was time even moving in my… well, time? Hell, I might be missing school. All those dual-credit courses, and I wasn't even there to take them. What a waste.

I sighed, my hands carded through my hair. I'd said I'd stick with optimism earlier, so I decided to follow through on that.

For the moment, I'm safe, warm, clean, fed, and I have a doctor looking out for me. All things considered, my situation could be much worse. I could be dead.

I guess I'll have to find a way to properly thank Shay.

 _ **I'm cringing at how that last line rhymes, but oh well. Would anyone be interested in my starting a tumblr for the story? I'd have to find a url, of course, and set it up properly, but it'd include information on original characters-such as Courtney, Greg, and Bruce-, relationships between characters both canon and otherwise, a timeline, and it'd be a place for you guys to ask about this and that, and for me to possibly throw around ideas, set up polls for things, and get a better idea of what you guys might want. Anyone up for it?**_


	5. Chapter 4: Anticipation

A new day. The remainder of yesterday had been entirely uneventful. Bruce's seemingly endless rambling was all the entertainment I'd had, and only during meals. He was, fortunately, good at storytelling, and had much to say. I would have told him some of mine, in turn, but I wasn't sure if it would be a good idea to do so. I doubted many people would believe me about my origins, and even if they did, they might not be quite so friendly.

I sat up, rolled my neck this way and that, trying to get out the kinks. A series of satisfying cracks was followed by a sigh. I popped my knuckles. Looking around, I noticed the possessions I'd been missing yesterday sitting on the end of my bed. Most of them anyway. The pocket knives were missing, all four of them. I wasn't surprised. I loaded my pockets back up with what had been given back, still yearning for the weight the knives had added to them. They made me feel more secure, even if they'd be mostly useless in a fight.

Today was going to be a long day if Shay expected me to give him as much information as I could. The games didn't seem to skimp on events that served some purpose or another, not to mention the things that happened in "side" games. I supposed that it would be prudent to give him Charles Dorian's name at some point, as Shay was searching for the box and Charles would likely die eventually anyway.

A pang of guilt shot through me. If I did that, I'd effectively be sentencing him to death even sooner. Then again, some of the information I could offer might do the same for many more people. And the Templars did want the box for a good enough reason. After the events of _Rogue_ , it was hard to say that the box was good news. But, if I did talk and Shay killed Charles sooner, would Arno still be adopted by François? Maybe I could ask him to arrange for that to happen, that way Arno would still be taken care of and the events of Unity could still play out at least somewhat similarly. I still felt awful about it, though.

A knock on the door effectively wrecked my grim train of thought. Bruce stepped in, a large smile on his face and a platter in hand. I'd be worried if he wore an expression any less cheerful.

"Good news! You can start eating solid food again!" He beamed. I looked at the plates atop the platter. What looked like over-salted meat and dried vegetables lied next to a hunk of flatbread and bowl of room temperature soup-the same I'd been eating. There wasn't a terribly large amount, and it wasn't warm or a five-star meal, but it was real food. That was more than enough for me.

"Thank you." I smiled at him as I took a plate. We spent the next twenty minutes eating, as was becoming the custom.

As I gnawed on a piece of meat that begged my lips to curl back and left my mouth dry, Bruce let out an "Oh!" and shook his head, laughing. "I almost forgot to mention-such an awful memory I have-, the captain wants to have you in his cabin for lunch. I'd tell you to dress your nicest, but I can't imagine rags are better than what you're wearing." I chuckled at his joke. He wasn't _Saturday Night Live_ worthy, but he did help to lighten the atmosphere. It's something I needed right now.

I stopped Bruce as he was leaving. "The captain hasn't said I'm supposed to stay in here until lunch, has he?" While I would understand the logic behind it, if he hadn't specifically said I was supposed to stay in my cage, then I saw no reason to do so.

Bruce seemed to think for a bit. "Well, he doesn't want you getting in the way of things-doesn't want you getting hurt-, but if you were to assist somewhere, I'm sure he wouldn't mind too much." I crossed my arms, rose an eyebrow, and smirked.

"Would our beloved doctor require any help this fine day?" He grinned back at me.

"Hard to say, this early, but it certainly couldn't hurt to have an extra set of hands around." He took an exaggerated bow as he held the door open wide, the platter in his hands clattering as he moved. After having stepped out, I made sure to offer an equally over-enthusiastic curtsy. It wasn't as elegant as it would have been if I were wearing a skirt.

"I don't have much medical experience, but if you need a walking, talking shelf, I'm sure I'll manage just fine." It would be good to feel slightly less useless. I was used to keeping myself occupied with plenty of things. Going from a busy schedule-exercising an hour daily (if not more), reading, texting, taking care of a cat, basic 21st century hygiene (I couldn't help but hate the way my teeth felt fuzzy when I ran my tongue over them. When was the first toothbrush patented?), school, and practicing singing, sketching, painting, and sculpting-to sitting in a small room and occasionally having a conversation was making me feel cramped.

The next few hours passed surprisingly quickly. The sick bay wasn't too far off from the kitchen, which was on the other side of the ship from the room I'd been staying in. I'd helped Bruce with some men that'd been suffering from scurvy, two that'd contracted a disease of some sort-I kept my distance as much as I could, I wasn't sure if whatever they had was something I'd been vaccinated for-, and a man that'd broken a bone in his lower leg after falling from the mast. The lattermost was good conversation, if a bit flirtatious. He shut up quickly when I was changing his bandages. Smart man. The rest didn't appear to be well enough to do much more than answer the questions Bruce asked them.

I heard the tolling of a bell. Eight rings. I heard footsteps, all headed towards the kitchen. Bruce said something to the patients, then hurried over to me.

"You'd best hurry up to the captain's cabin, one of the boys'll bring up food for the two of you." He clapped me on the back, which sent me reeling forward. I heard his laughter echoing down the hall as I dodged a couple oncoming men. Shaking my head and chuckling, I began to make my way to Shay's cabin.


	6. Chapter 5: Information

I paused at the doors. Large, ornate. I took a second to appreciate the work that must have gone into them. Bringing myself back to reality, I wondered whether I should knock or just… go in. I figured that it would only be polite to knock.

"Come in." was heard, muffled by doors and the tail-end of a knock. I made sure to close the door behind me quietly. I looked up to see Shay lounging on his bed. One leg dangled off the side and a book was propped up on his other knee, held in place by a gloved hand. "Not familiar with ships, are you?" I guessed he referred to my general bearing. I was entirely out of my element.

"I make it a point to stay away from large bodies of water. Swimming is, unfortunately, not one of my many talents." I answered honestly.

He snorted. "You should work on that." The book was closed and set aside. He stood, took his time in stretching before he walked over to me. "Now, I'll be needing what information you have. Can you write?" Ah. Writing would be better than him trying to remember every word of what I'd said.

"Yes."

"How well?"

"That depends on if you're talking about my penmanship or the quality of the words. The latter, just fine. The former… at least it looks nice." Humor would help the situation, probably. It eased my frayed nerves, if nothing else. Shay shook his head with a barely-there smile and walked over to his desk. He rummaged through a drawer for a second.

"So long as it's legible, it's acceptable." Paper, a quill, and a jar of ink were set on the desk. Well, I'm certainly not familiar with quills. That may be a problem.

I cleared my throat. "People don't usually use quills in my time. Could you, maybe, show me how they work?" Shay raised an eyebrow, but nodded and took the lid off the jar. I walked over and watched as he dipped the tip of the quill in the ink. He used light, elegant strokes to write simple sentences in the blue ink. It took a few moments for the ink to dry, then Shay took the sheet and set the quill down.

I moved to sit in the chair behind the desk, and took a second to settle in. It was clearly designed for someone built larger than I was. I took the quill and dipped it in the ink, wondering whether the heavy drop was too much or too little. Then, I set to writing.

Ten minutes in, I sighed. Shay looked up from his book, moderately annoyed. "What is it?"  
"So, have pencils been created yet or…? Because that would probably be a lot more effective than me having a one-on-one fist fight with an object with no hands." I really wasn't doing well at writing with a quill. While you could make out words, blots of ink were littered here and there, the lines were too thick in some places and too thin in others, and the density changed from a deep cobalt to a light sky blue. I'd hardly want anyone to read this.

Shay cracked a smile at my words. I found it comforting that he didn't seem annoyed by my remarks, even if he didn't seem to . He set the book down once more to get up and search a drawer in the desk. He held up what looked remarkably similar to the pencils in my time. It lacked the bright, yellow paint, and was a bit thicker, but there was no doubting that it was indeed a pencil. I thanked him, and he went back to lay down. A knock resounded through the room, and a muffled voice called "Lunch for the cap'n and 'is guest!"

Shay groaned and lifted himself off the bed once more so he could retrieve the meal. I giggled and he shot a look at me. I pretended to be deeply considering the words I would write. He thanked the man and placed a plate on the desk on his way back to his bed, muttering under his breath about not being able to lay down for a minute.

I looked up to see what I'd be eating- salted beef, oatmeal, and more dried vegetables. The only thing separating it from what I'd had earlier was that this meal seemed to be warm. I grabbed the bread and munched on it as I considered what to write. I ignored the pit in my stomach as best I could. Should I be talking to Shay about what I'm writing? He'd be able to say what does and doesn't seem that important, plus he'd be able to ask me questions about things that I might be forgetting. And I might try to forget them even further, if I think I should. I looked back up. He'd abandoned his book for his food. He wouldn't be missing much, then. I swallowed a final wave of guilt at handing over this information.

"Uh… Captain?" I wasn't quite sure what to call him. Captain? Mr. Cormac? Shay? Master Shay?

He glanced my way. "You're not a member of my crew. 'Shay' or 'Cormac' should suffice." I was thankful for that. If he'd asked me to refer to him as "Captain" at all times, I'd have slipped up often enough that he'd be annoyed with me in a day.

"Alright… Shay. Well, what kind of information would you like me to start with?"

He sat up a bit straighter. "Preferably, anything that'll happen soon."

I thought. "Nothing much is going to happen for roughly a year. Then…" I thought back to both the events of Assassin's Creed III and to all the knowledge I'd had of American history. "Then a revolution in the colonies really starts up, and a few events take place. There's an Assassin involved in more than one." Shay's eyes narrowed.

"Which events?"

I shifted my position. "William Johnson will try to buy indigenous land, he'll be using money that he collects from taxes on tea. The Assassin will try to disrupt this. Several tax collectors are killed in the process." I paused. He stared at me intently. "A bit more than a month later, on 16 December, in an event that will come to be known as the 'Boston Tea Party', a massive amount of tea will be dumped off of some ships, and large amounts of money will be lost to Johnson."

"And the land?"

"While the Templar order gives Johnson the money to buy it, 11 July he's killed by an Assassin during negotiations." I hoped I wasn't going to regret this later. I probably was. Shay seemed unsettled by my answer but nodded at the paper. The first things that I would write. It could be worse, I mused.

The next few hours passed in the same fashion. Shay would step out every so often, reappear fifteen-thirty minutes later. We had a few side-conversations here and there. Little, pointless words about little, pointless things. It kept the mood lighter, though, and Shay seemed easy enough to get along with. He still intimidated me, but seeing him stretched out on his bed like a lazy house-cat helped. I'd managed to detail most of what would happen up to the beginning of 1776.

"I should get going. Eat something and get some rest and all that stuff that we humans need to do." I said, standing. Shay nodded. I'd crossed the room and rested my hand on the handle when he spoke up.

"Oh, Courtney, one more thing." I heard him open a drawer, once more, and he was walking towards me when I turned around. He was holding something-somethings. When he opened his hands, there were my knives. Three pocket knives and a swiss army knife. All procured from my father, with or without his permission. He'd had plenty of others, anyway. Shay's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "No hard feelings, I hope. I couldn't have you walking around with weapons on my ship."

"I'm sure your men would have been terrified." I said dryly, taking my knives back. I flicked one open and stabbed and slashed at empty air. "Beware my tiny knives! Your swords and pistols are no match!" I looked back at Shay to see an amused smile on his face. He bid me farewell, and I left his cabin.

I supposed tomorrow would be the day I'd tell Shay of Charles Dorian. I still felt guilt at the idea of doing so. The majority of what I'd said simply allowed the Templars to reorganize and prevent some of their own from dying, but specifically pointing out Charles was going to result in his death. I might as well be the one killing him. As I trudged back to my room, I decided I'd deal with it tomorrow.


	7. Tumblr

I just finished setting up the absolute bare-bones of a tumblr for this story, both for you guys' sake and my own. While it's still being worked on, it'll be used as a place for me to throw whatever things I have that are vaguely related to this story. Feel free to ask me questions, make recommendations, read the /About page, or whatever else you so desire to do.

The tumblr url is thewolfandthejackal and should have just one post.

Now to work on the website and chapters for the next six days.


	8. Chapter 6: Beardy

Sleep came sooner than I expected, as did the morning. Aside from the pit in my stomach, I was feeling better than I had in days. I headed up top to pass the time.

Men milled about, a few casting looks at me. I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself, and walked around, looking for something or another to do. Several barrels, ropes, wooden boards, and a couple of trips on my own feet later, I was saved from culture shock.

"Hey, girl! Cap'n wants you up here!" A voice boomed from the rear of the ship. It caused me to jump. I walked to the front of the ship, wondering what on earth Shay could want from me right now

As I cleared the last step on the stairs, I was greeted by Shay and a burly man with a thick beard that was dark as night. He wore a bright red waistcoat. Beardy looked me up and down, sneered, turned away to spit on something. I don't like to judge people based on appearances or first impressions, but I found I disliked the man nearly as soon as I'd seen him. I focused on Shay instead. He nodded at Beardy, and the beast of a man sauntered down the steps I'd just ascended. Good riddance.

"Don't mind Alfonso, he's an arse before the sun sets." Shay said to me. I nodded and leaned on the railing.

"Not that I mind you giving me something more interesting to do than walk around, but is there a reason you called me up here?" I really was grateful that he hadn't allowed me to flounder around without a clue as to what I should be doing, but I didn't want to .

"I wanted a decent conversation and he," He nodded to Alfonso's head just before it disappeared below deck. "-was about as talkative as a wall." I let out a bark of laughter. Somehow that didn't surprise me. "And, you were walking around looking like a little lost lamb. I figured you wouldn't mind." I shrugged.

"Well, here I am. What, uh, what do we talk about?" I wasn't quite sure what he'd like to talk about, our lives were drastically different even without the more than two century age difference. A Templar who captained a ship and freeran, and an artist who went to school and freeran. Exercise wasn't exactly a fun topic, though.

He hummed as he turned the wheel to the right a couple times. "What's your world like? Your time?"

I guess it was natural to be curious about it. And I didn't really see the harm in trying to describe it, even if much of it was beyond anyone's wildest dreams in this time. "It's a lot more… complicated?" Shay cast a confused glance at me. "Well, you have to take into consideration that there are major technological leaps in the next few centuries." I started to pace, really getting into it. I couldn't help that I was a nerd. "Things like electrification, the factory-system, telecommunications, the internet, automobiles, aerospace, deep-sea exploration, refrigeration, huge advancements in hygiene and medicine that prevent people from dying of things like smallpox, yellow fever, infection. A thousand other things that I'm completely forgetting because I'm so used to them.

"People all around the world are- will be more connected than ever; I had friends who lived in countries on the other side of the planet, who I'd never seen in person! All because of little devices like," I reached into my pocket, pulled out my LG-G4, delighting in the familiar feel of the light brown leather on its back. "-this." I moved closer to Shay, turned the device on, flipped through different apps. His eyes were huge, and he reached out to tap the screen. His hand retracted and he let out a gasp when the screen changed entirely. I had a huge, dorky smile on my face. His reaction to it was worth the ten percent of my battery that had been used. I hoped. I mean, I wouldn't get much use out of it in my current predicament, now would I?

"Even though we have all this incredible technology that makes people's lives easier, due to a little thing called capitalism, a lot of people in third-world countries don't have access to some things that I'd consider basic parts of a home. A fridge to keep perishable food cold, a shower to clean yourself in, electricity to power your home and keep your warm in winter and cool in summer, a dozen other things that I'm forgetting because… well, because I'm so used to them." I paused.

Shay frowned. "A lot of these things seem like miracles to me. I'm not surprised not everyone has- will have those things."

I snorted. "It doesn't mean it's fair. It doesn't mean that something shouldn't be done to try to _make_ it fair. But most of the people with the money to do that won't, and most of the people who would don't have the money." I missed home, but I did have to admit that many aspects of it had infuriated me. I studied Shay for a moment. "What about this time? What's life like here?"

A somewhat irritated look fell across Shay's face and for a second I thought I'd said something wrong. That was wiped from my mind when he said, "You stand there and ramble about all the great things the future has and you expect me to be able to come up with something that's better about this time than that?"

I shrugged. "Well… we… don't use ships that look this nice in my time. They're all smooth metal and chipped paint. This is a lot more… aesthetically pleasing." Shay grinned at the praise of the _Morrigan_.

"It's a shame that people lose their sense of style in your time." I bit back a joke about his name and the word "shame."

We watched the water of the ocean pass by in silence.


	9. Chapter 7: A Decision Made

I left Shay briefly to fetch breakfast for the two of us-the same meal as yesterday. I couldn't complain about much, save the absence of fruit. I'd eaten a diet of mostly fruit and processed meat back in my time. Lactose intolerance struck off most foods from my menu. I was thankful that the only dairy I'd seen on the ship was butter and a white substance that smelled sour. I suspected it was curdled milk, but I wasn't about to taste it-for more than one reason.

As we stood, munching on food I wasn't quite sick of yet, I started to wonder.

Breaking at least five rules of social etiquette in one blow, I asked him a question as I chewed on the tough meat. "So, where the hell are we headed, anyway?"

Shay seemed to have more important things to worry about. "Savannah, Georgia. Tybee Island, before that. There's a fort there housing an ally who should have information regarding an important mission of mine. " That caught my attention. It wasn't the mission about the box, was it? If so, he may want me to speak up. My appetite seemed to vanish. I forced myself to keep eating as I tilted my head.

"What kind of mission?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I hope you're asking because you think you have information that'll be of use."

I made an "ehhh" sound and gave an over-exaggerated shrug. "I know many things, for all I know, this could be one of them." _I probably know what it is._

"Well, do you know anything about a fancy old box?" _I know exactly what it is and have an idea of where it'll probably be eventually. Great._ Shay kept his eyes forward, but his attention was on me.

I took a moment to think, should I tell him? I could hear a drumbeat in my ears, and I registered a voice saying "Yes. Kind of." I recognized the smooth, slightly country drawl I'd gotten so accustomed to hearing from the recordings of my singing-and my comments when messing up a note. My voice, then.

"Then please, do tell." Shay was still not looking at me, but his jaw was working. I opened my mouth to speak, and nothing came out. I tried again, the same. As embarrassing as it is, I felt like I was going to cry.

I tried to figure out what to say. Finally, I managed to speak. "He has a son. A young son. I don't want him to die."

Shay looked at me sideways. Cogs seemed to be working in his head. His jaw stopped its movement and his gaze softened. "Why? Do you know him?"

I shook my head. "No, but, it's just… it feels wrong. He's a father, his son doesn't have a living mother. It's wrong." I didn't know how else to explain it. It just felt wrong to sentence him to death knowing he had a kid, a little, helpless kid whose life I'd watched.

Shay waved to a sailor, and the scrawny man scrambled up to take the wheel. Shay laid a hand on my back and led me to his cabin, our breakfast forgotten on a crate. I wasn't sure if this was better or worse. I wasn't around as many people now, but I was alone in what seemed a too-small room with someone I looked up to. My breathing was unsteady, my hands shook, and I couldn't bring myself to look anywhere other than the floor. Shay stood and looked at me for a second, seemingly lost as to what he should do, if he should try to calm me down or leave me to handle it myself.

He made a decision, and spoke in a gentle voice, "Look at me." I didn't. "Look at me." Firmer, this time, but still not unkind. I did so, and his face reflected the tone of his voice. We stared at each other for a moment before he spoke again. "I know this isn't a light decision, and I can't promise that this man, whoever he is, will not be killed." He went to touch my arm, stopped when I flinched away. He sighed. "Courtney, this information is important. If you know as much as I think you do, then you know how dangerous this box is, right?" I nodded. "Then you know that it's important that the box be taken away from the Assassins, right?" I hesitated. The events of Rogue had only been caused by the Colonial Assassins, and all but one of them were dead now. But he had a point; the Templars knew what had happened and wanted to prevent it. Haytham was technically Shay's boss, and he had no interest in the artifacts of Those Who Came Before. I nodded.

"I know it's for the best, but it just, it seems wrong, still. It feels like by telling you, I might as well be the one stabbing him." I couldn't speak loudly, but he heard me just fine. Shay nodded. A few moments passed as I milled the decision over in my mind, my body filled with as much tension as the air. I made my own decision.

"Do you want me to write it down?" I couldn't look him in the eye. I still felt sick, and I willed myself not to vomit. Shay led me over to the desk, and I took the seat, grateful to not be standing in my current condition. I picked up the pencil, took a clear sheet from the stack. As I wrote down the name, the date, the place, a strange calm washed over me. I steadied as I finished writing. Looked it over, wrote it again, more legible this time. I pushed the paper to him.

He read it, and slowly his eyes lifted to me. "Thank you." I looked down at the desk. He cleared his throat. "If you don't feel up to it, you can retire to your room for the rest of today." All that would do is allow me to wallow in pity. Which, as nice as that seemed, I wasn't sure would help my emotional state. I'd rather get more done today. I'd probably feel awful tomorrow, regardless.

"No. I'd like to do something. Anything." He seemed surprised, but nodded. I fiddled with the pencil. I had a thought. "Will we still be going to Tybee Island?"

"We're a day from there, and the contact is still waiting for my arrival. We'll stop at Savannah to restock and plan our course." He replied. I briefly considered asking him if it would be alright for me to come along with him, but decided my attire wouldn't be practical. Maybe there'd be something on the ship that would fit me. I resolved to ask Bruce about that later as I went back to writing.


	10. Chapter 8: Convenient Casualty

By the time I'd left the captain's cabin, it was dark. I'd finished writing down everything that happened during _III_. I'd gone straight to my room and dropped on the cot. It was a while before I slept.

When I awakened the next morning, I was already tired. It was early, the sun not quite over the horizon yet. The creak of the door as I ventured out made me cringe, and I hoped I hadn't woken anyone else. The kitchen wasn't yet handing out food, and Bruce was still sleeping. His snores permeated the walls of his room, so I didn't bother knocking. With nothing else to do, I decided to go above deck.

The morning was quiet. My thoughts, not so much. I still felt guilt over having informed Shay of Charles. At least I'd made a decision; whatever happened, I would deal with. I looked towards the wheel. Alfonso stood there, the bright red of his waistcoat stark against the dark wood and light grey skies. My eyes narrowed. I still disliked the man. Something about him set me on edge more than anyone else on this ship. It was probably how holier-than-thou he'd seemed.

The morning passed uneventfully, save for the skies above us growing angrier with the hour. By the time Shay emerged from his cabin, the sky was nearly as dark as it had been before sunrise, and rumbling was heard in the distance.

I'd already snatched a loaf of bread and some meat from the cooks, who had tossed them at me as a bribe to stop questioning them about their cooking methods. I made a mental note of that for a rainy day. At the moment, I sat on the railing, and my legs kicked out at open air. I wasn't quite satisfied, and started to head down to the kitchen to try to get my hands on coffee or tea. I hadn't had any since I'd first arrived in this time, and I was craving it once more.

Alfonso was dismissed at the same moment, sort of. I heard Shay tell him to go grab some breakfast for the both of them, so that later they could start plotting the next course on full stomachs. We traded sour looks as we descended the stairs. I was glad to know the feeling was mutual. When we walked into the kitchen together, I slinked over to a particularly weak-willed and lanky cook stationed near a wall.

"Hi again." I said, smiling at him. He turned, flashed a smile, and turned back to whatever it was he was doing. Probably something to do with food.

"What do you want this time?" He asked.

"Could I trouble you for some coffee? Tea, even?" I asked it in the most sickeningly sweet tone I could. I needed something to keep me on my feet.

He sized me up for a moment. "Coffee ain't cheap."

I shrugged. "Well, a lot of things aren't. Doesn't mean people don't use 'em."

He continued to look at me critically for a moment, then shook his head. "Fine, fine, plenty of people are wanting it now, anyways. You only get one cup, though." He held up a finger as he said that, then walked off. He was surprisingly agile, his gangly limbs considered.

I leaned against the wall and waited for him to come back. As I did so, I let my eyes wander the room. Men were cooking, eating, cleaning-all of them were clad in whites, greys, browns, washed out blues. Except for one. That irritatingly bright red waistcoat caught my eye every few seconds. Eventually I let my gaze settle on the first mate himself. He was chatting with several men, laughter at jokes they made drifting over to me. A man near me called out to Alfonso, and the latter came over to him.

For whatever reason, he didn't notice me. I decided staying hidden from him might be wise, so I did my best to hide behind the make-shift counters between us. I hoped he wouldn't notice my eyes hovering above the top of them. There was too much noise for me to clearly hear the conversation between the two of them, but I watched as Alfonso took two plates, which were nearly identical. He made a joke to the other man, and the latter howled with laughter and clapped Alfonso on the back before walking away.

Simple enough, until Alfonso set the plates down on one of the counters between us. I willed myself to become invisible if possible. He cast shifty looks around, and pulled something from the pocket of his waistcoat. It was dark in the kitchen, but it looked like a small bottle with something light-colored inside it. He unscrewed the bottle and lightly shook it over the left plate. He nearly jumped out of his skin when someone called for him. He hastily screwed the bottle shut and shoved it back in his pocket. He plastered a fake smile on his face as he wandered off to talk to them. His back was to the plates.

I moved to the plates as quickly as I could, and inspected them. They looked exactly the same at first glance-salted beef, oatmeal, bread, and dried vegetables. On closer inspection of the plate he'd shook the bottle over, small grains of something light-colored were slowly sinking into the oatmeal. Why would he add salt to a meal? He already had enough from the beef.

Something wasn't right here, and I glanced to where he was still talking with another crew member. I made the split-second decision to switch the plates, and arranged them to look as similar as possible. Hopefully he wouldn't notice. I scurried off, and barely grabbed a cup of coffee as I was heading up.

I went back to my perch on the railing, sipping my coffee and ignoring the jittery feeling that was definitely not caffeine.

A red waistcoat walked up the stairs to the wheel, and I watched the captain and first mate eat their breakfast. They talked animatedly, apparently on a heated topic. After roughly half an hour, Alfonso started clutching at his stomach, and fighting to swallow.

He'd thrown up and was gurgling and thrashing by the time I followed a couple of men up. I stepped up to Shay and murmured something about Alfonso's pockets. He searched them, and after checking the second, pulled out a small bottle. White grains filled it halfway. Shay looked between Alfonso, the bottle, and me. He stood up and ordered one of the men to stop from getting Bruce.

Shay held up the bottle. The men around us stared for a second, then realization dawned on them.

"Damn…"

"So that's the bastard that killed James…"

"I knew Alfonso could be a prick, but this…"

The body of the man I'd just killed was tossed overboard, annoyingly red waistcoat with him.

I didn't look away when his body hit the water.

 _ **Alternate names for this chapter included: "Fortunate Fatality", "Helpful Hit", "What an Arse-nic", "Accidental Assassination", "Beardy-Bye-Bye," "Killer Cuisine", and several others. Kinda sad I couldn't use them all, honestly.**_


	11. Chapter 9: Plans

"How'd you know?" Shay paced in his cabin. I sat on the desk.

"I saw him sprinkle something on your food. I didn't know what it was, but he was acting weird."

"How so?" Shay's voice was rough, and he looked stiff..

"When someone looks around like they're committing a crime and sprinkles something on food that is potentially someone else's, they're probably committing a crime, or on a die-it." I hoped the pun wasn't too much. Fortunately, if it was, he seemed more preoccupied with the situation at hand than my comments.

He paced for several more moments before sighing and speaking again. "Five men dropped dead several months ago, the last first mate was one of them. Bruce said it looked like arsenic, but we never found the one responsible." He looked at me. "Looks like you did." I kicked my feet.

"And seeing as he _was_ about to poison you, I suppose I don't owe you." I held his gaze as I said it. It was a shame this had happened after I'd given him the information, else I wouldn't have felt like I was honor-bound to do so.

"I suppose you don't." The moment was tense. Before, I'd been in his debt-he'd kept me from dying and given me a safe haven. Now, I'd kept him from dying and given him information. We were on more even ground now. Granted, I was still the outsider here, but I didn't feel he had quite so much leverage over me. I felt better about that, even if a part of me was queasy at having killed someone.

"What happens now?" My mouth was dry. Shay seemed to think the question over.

"Do you have any more information?"

"Not any that would be considered reliable. What I've told you? It might change the course of history as I know it. It might not. Hard to say." I really wasn't sure what would happen from here on out.

"But you have an idea of what could happen? Basic ideas about what will happen around the world?"

"Eurocentric society, yes. Not everything ever, but the biggest things and some details here and there."

"So, you're still invaluable to us." He said. I gave a weak nod. "Then it'd be for the best if, for now, you remain with me. We'll be heading up to Virginia; I need to talk to my associates."

"You mean Haytham Kenway, Charles Lee, Thomas Hickey, William Johnson, etcetera…." I considered rambling on with the names of every Templar I remembered from this time period, but then, that would have made me look pretentious.

Shay nodded. "The Grand Master will decide what happens to you." _Wait no._

"Kenway? But… I mean I know why, but still." I remembered very clearly how Haytham had developed after the business with Reginald Birch. While, as a character, I liked him, he wasn't someone I liked the idea of meeting. Shay had me on the edge of my seat enough as it was, and I was just beginning to really like being around him.

"Whatever the Grand Master decides, is what happens." The tone of his voice told me enough. We weren't going to talk about this any further.

"Alright, well, if you're intending on bringing me somewhere, I don't think my clothes really help me blend in. People'd be casting looks at me long before we got wherever we're supposed to go- be it the Green Dragon Tavern or a private estate." Shay nodded after seemingly reminding himself that I knew much more than he'd told me. I guess having an almost-stranger from the future know so much about the secret ancient club you're in isn't always fun.

"Tomorrow, when we're in Savannah, you'll come out with me. You'll wear some clothes Bruce has on hand. They're not fashionable, but it'll only be temporary, as we'll be getting you new ones while we're out. Go to him now."

I slipped off the desk and headed to Bruce. At least I'd have clean clothes before the day was over.

As I walked through the ship, I caught whispers discussing Alfonso's death. Some were sad to see him gone, others were merely curious as to who would be taking the place of first-mate. A few correctly assumed I had something to do with his death. I didn't answer any of the questions vaguely aimed at me.

Bruce was tending to the two men who'd been ill when I'd helped him a few days prior. I knocked, just to make sure I didn't give the poor fat old man a heart attack.

"Courtney!" He was up like a shot and talking even faster. "Now, I know it's early and all, but I heard some things about Alfonso, and some men said he might be down soon. I heard your name mentioned- do you happen to know where he is? If he's sick, well..." He stopped to breathe, and I cut him short.

"Alfonso made some poor dietary choices. Namely, a seasoning of arsenic." I tried to make it as short and bitter-sweet as I could. Bruce's little mouth formed a wide "O" as I finished speaking.

"Arsenic? We had a few men die a while back of arsenic poisoning… He didn't poison himself, did he?" Bruce was wide-eyed.

"Technically yes, but not intentionally. He tried to poison Sh- the captain, and I noticed. I switched their plates. I guess he wasn't as observant."

He gawked at me for a second, before starting to fan himself off. "Oh, dear. While I don't condone murder per say, I do have to thank you for keeping the captain alive. The man's done some… questionable things in the past, but he doesn't deserve a death like that, from a man like that." I nodded.

"Yes. I'm glad he's still around." I paused, then remembered who I was talking to and interrupted the beginning of what was likely a record-breaking run-on sentence. "Cormac told me to come down and ask you for clothes. You wouldn't happen to have any I could wear, would you?" I needed to make sure I said that at some point, else we'd both end up talking for far too long.

"Oh, yes! We don't have anything as nice as your clothes, but I'm sure there's something in here you can wear."

I followed Bruce and we went through the clothes together. A volatile mix of emotions in my chest was temporarily subdued as I tried on different clothes. I eventually settled on an off-white linen shirt, a slightly oversized vest, a pair of trousers that only stayed on my hips because of a belt, and a worn pair of boots that miraculously fit my feet just right. I was glad enough to ditch my older clothes, save for the accessories and jacket. I took those back to my room and clipped on my pocket watch, shoving the watch itself into a pants pocket.

I spent the next hour wandering around above deck. I jumped when a whistling voice from somewhere above shouted out that he'd sighted land. I didn't see anything, but I trusted they were better trained than I.


	12. Chapter 10: Small Talk

By the time we finally docked in port, I was attempting hand-stands out of boredom. I supposed it was better for me to stick to parkour. We were waiting for another few hours for Shay to talk to the informant. A few other men had left to barter with red-clad soldiers in the fort. I was content to stay on the ship upon seeing the lobster-backs, the memory of being pursued through woods was still fresh in my mind and I still had scratches and bruises from the ordeal.

After a while, I grew bored and started conversing with some men who'd started drinking on deck. A couple had been in the infirmary just days before, and were friendly enough. I listened, wide-eyed, to stories of adventures and battles and mutinies. They spoke in increasingly exaggerated voices and wild gestures as the sun rose higher and started to arc lower. After considerable time spent with them, one-blond hair fell past his ears and he was missing some teeth-pointed to the boarding ramp and made what appeared to be a sloppy saluting gesture.

The others did the same thing, and I heard a snorting laugh belonging to the only captain I knew. I smiled and waved-I wasn't a part of his crew, after all. He nodded back at me and proceeded to call out some orders. The men around me scrambled to get to their stations, suddenly much more alert than they'd been. I walked up to where Shay was standing at the wheel.

"So, how'd it go?"

He continued staring at the crew before turning to me with a wry smile. "Looks like you were honest. The man was flighty, but he said the box is suspected to be in France. He wasn't quite sure who had it beyond that, though. You may have saved us months of searching."

I nodded. "Hopefully, that'll be the last time you doubt me." I didn't smile, it was still hard to think about it for too long. I just hoped that Charles would be spared. I didn't dwell on those thoughts for long. "So we're headed to Savannah next, then?"

"Yes, we'll have to stay the night. Any sailor loves the sea, but sometimes a night out at a bar and a cheap inn is what they need." He said, a small smirk on his lips at the end of his sentence.

"I'm sure they do." I eyed him for a second. "What about you? Records were pretty quiet about your personal life. You have anyone you're involved with?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, and I doubt I will for some time." He grinned again. "What about you? Got a sweetheart back in your time?"

I laughed. "Are you joking? I don't have time for that shit. I was too busy doing things that didn't stress me out." I didn't necessarily mind the idea of a relationship, but every time I'd been in one since… well, suffice it to say, romance wasn't high up on my list of priorities.

"What kind of things?" He seemed genuinely interested. Luckily for him, I loved talking about myself.

"A lot of things. Painting, sketching, sculpting, carving, singing, writing, archery, free-running- even more than that. Take your pick." I was bouncing my legs, it'd be nice to talk about something I was passionate about.

"So you're an artsy type, huh? Alright, I'll bite. Sketching. What'd you like to draw most?"

I tapped a finger on the railing. "I liked drawing scenery the most, then people, then birds. I filled a lot of sketchbooks with doodles of anatomy and general referenced drawings. I had an entire drawer-full of the damn things, and I cringed every time I looked through them." I chuckled. It seemed like no artist could look through their old work without feeling physical pain.

He shook his head in amusement. "I'm sure they were fine. What about… singing? You don't strike me as the type, honestly."

I put a hand to my heart and gasped in mock offense. "Are you implying that I'm anything but opera-worthy?" I relaxed my position again. "But yeah, you're kinda right. I don't really fancy singing in front of other people. We had technology that was able to record sound, and I'd use that. I'd send them to friends or, once in a blue moon, post them online-er, that is to say, on the internet, which is kind of a really complicated world-wide communication system that was really popular. It's kinda hard to describe it, really."

He looked like he took a second to try to visualize some form of the internet, then gave up. "In any case, you'll have to sing for me at some point. Shanties are all I get around here." He gestured around the vessel. I laughed.

"I don't know, I'm sure some of them have half-decent voices."

"Not when they're drunk, they don't." He turned away from me at that, and barked some more orders. We continued our conversation while the crew readied the ship. I watched as the sails unfurled, an anchor was weighed, the men sang some song I faintly remembered from the games, and other activities I wasn't familiar with were done.

I interjected Shay's orders every so often with small "What's that?"'s, "How does that work?"s, and "What does that mean?"'s. He answered patiently, and I was grateful for his humoring me. By the time we set off down the river for Savannah, I'd only covered the basics of some of my interests.

Watching the land pass by was a welcome change from the open sea-and not just for me. The crew seemed to be buzzing with excitement, apparently familiar with a routine I was only just being introduced to. The sun had sunken below the horizon by the time we docked. Shay double-checked that the men had completed their duties, then set them loose. They disappeared into the city in groups-headed for taverns, no doubt. Even Shay went ashore-just not before I'd pestered him for a book to read. As I opened _The Odyssey_ , I tried not to think about how different my life was now.


	13. Chapter 11: 18th Century Shopping

I'd fallen asleep at some point-deeply asleep. The only thing that kept me from sleeping through breakfast was Bruce. The ship was still quiet, most of the men appeared to still be ashore; one of those remaining made a remark that they were either holed up in an inn, a young woman's bedroom, or they were slumped against a wall in an alleyway. Fair enough, I suppose.

Shay wasn't back yet, either. It was still early, so I wasn't concerned. I sat with my back against the mast, continuing my reading of The Odyssey. I wasn't terribly invested, and the English translation felt a bit formal to me at times, but it was something to do while I waited for Shay to come back.

Two hours later, I was poked with a boot. I waved a hand at the person noncommittally, and went back to reading. Then they did it again, harder. I looked up, fully prepared to attempt to knock the person on their ass. A smug grin was on Shay's face, and I scowled at him. It only prompted that damned smile to widen. Jerk.

"Is this how you greet everyone when you return from a night out? Prod them with your foot until they try to strangle you?" I stood up, stretching out some muscles that screamed in response.

"Only the ones that I think I can handle in a fight." He replied, jerking his head towards the ramp, indicating that I should follow. I looked around for a place to set the large book, then settled for laying it on a crate. I hoped it wouldn't rain.

I jogged to catch up with Shay, who was now halfway down the ramp. "Is that a challenge? Because if so, then I accept. I mean, you probably will win, but I still get points for trying, right."

"Unfortunately, no. You just get a black eye and some broken bones."

I scoffed. "What? You think just because you have a ship you get the final say on what does and doesn't net me points?" I nearly had to keep jogging to keep up with his long legs and fast gait. Why was this man so tall?

"Yes." He grabbed hold of my arm and dragged me down a street.

"Of course you do. Now, where are we exactly?"

"Ellis Square. It's a center of commerce here. If we can't find you clothes here, then chances are we won't find them anywhere in Savannah." He continued talking after, but I was distracted by something that I never thought I'd see. There were people lined up-black people-,and it looked like someone was pointing at one of them-a scrawny boy who kept his eyes to the ground-and… bartering with another man. Both of the barterers wore nice clothing and looked like ghosts with their pale skin and powdered wigs.

I guess I'd known that slavery was accepted in this time, but it hadn't occurred to me that I'd actually see something like this. I stared in disgust and horror until Shay tugged me away, and I couldn't see them anymore.

"Courtney?"

I took a deep breath. "They sell slaves here? People? Why didn't you tell me? That's… that's awful, why w-" He cut me off.

"Listen, I don't approve of the practice, but it's widespread enough that you'll see it more. I wish I could tell you something else, but that's the fact of the matter." He said it matter-of-factly. It didn't help quell the cocktail of negative emotions I'd felt. Most of them had looked hungry, and scars stretched across the skin of most. Many were like the boy, and had kept their eyes low to the ground. Racism was a major problem in the 21st century, make no mistake, but I'd never thought that I'd have to witness people being treated so similarly to animals.

I bit back a reply. Anything I could have said would have been bitter, and he would have seen it coming. I looked away from him.

He sighed. "Be glad that it wasn't as bad a first encounter as you could have had." That didn't help either.

As we moved through the square, I thought of those people. It still felt wrong to not do anything when I knew that they were likely treated inhumanely, in ways that I probably couldn't fathom. I did the same thing I'd done the past few days, and simply looked forward and compartmentalized the emotions I'd felt. The emotions I was feeling.

Shay led the way to a building with a sign out in front so worn that you couldn't read it. He opened the door for me, and I stepped in. It was stuffy, and smelled of a mix of leather and something sour I couldn't place a name to.

A woman looked up from where she was pulling a needle through two layers of yellow cloth, and smiled politely at us. Marginally more so at Shay.

"Hello, how may I help the two of you today?" She set her work aside and walked around to a counter to our right.

"I'd like to purchase some clothing for her." Shay nodded towards me. "Lost the majority of her things in a fire a couple weeks back."

She let out a soft sound of sympathy, and reached towards me to rest a hand on my upper arm. "I'm so sorry to hear that, it's such a shame when those things happen. At least your… uncle? Is here to help you." She looked a bit awkward, trying to figure out the relationship between us. I restrained myself from laughing while Shay corrected her.

"We're not related. We've only known each other for a tad more than a week." He explained. She blushed in embarrassment and apologized a couple of times. We both assured her it was fine.

She instructed Shay to remain in the front while she took me to the back. She instructed me to strip, and after a moment of reluctance, I did so. It felt odd to stand with my arms held, completely naked as a woman I didn't know took my measurements, but there were worse things, I supposed. She told me to stay where I was, and disappeared. I stood in the room, fidgeting all the while, until she came back with a large armful of differently colored dresses, bodices, and skirts.

I opened my mouth to ask for something more practical-I was on a ship, and I didn't think most of the long-skirted dresses seemed suitable for working, running, or fighting if I absolutely had to-, but she hushed me and I tried on a plethora of different clothes.

By the end, I'd settled on two different dresses-one that was comprised of dark yellow, brown, and off-white that had sleeves cut up to the elbows and a neck cut flatteringly, and a more modestly cut one made of dark red cloth with swirly patterns on it, black, dark grey, and white layers brought the red out more, and the close-fitting sleeves went down to my wrists. A chemise, petticoat, and stay were on my body the entire time, and I found that it was more restrictive than I'd hoped.

I cleared my throat after trying on the second dress. She looked at me with big eyes and a bigger smile, and asked me to twirl. Admittedly, it felt nice; the dress was pretty and-if I forewent the stay-fairly easy to move in. Even so, I felt some garments more suited for physical work should be purchased. Still wearing the dress, as I felt it too time-consuming to change into the run-down clothes I'd been wearing before, I went out into the front of the store to ask Shay for some advice in 18th century fashion.

"Shay, so, I assume there's a limit on what I can buy, right? I mean, I don't want to get too much." I spoke lowly as I approached him. He nodded, eyes glancing over the dress.

"How many have you got in mind right now?"

"Two dresses, this one and another in the back. I figured it'd be nice to have something pretty to wear, plus most women I've seen don't wear pants, so if it's inconspicuous we're going for…"

"Yes, it is an oddity." He agreed. "Do you prefer dresses?"

"Not really, they're kinda inefficient for things that require a lot of freedom of movement." I hoped there would be some pants in a size I could wear. It was difficult enough to find any in my time, when there were pants tailored to those with my figure.

"True. You might have to get clothes specially tailored, though. Most are made for men. You should go ask that girl about it."

I stared at him blankly. "I've… never been to a tailor before. How do I…?"

He sighed, and called out, "Miss!" The lady came into the front room, hands clasped in front of her. Shay smiled. "How long would it take to tailor some men's clothing to fit her?"

The woman took on a confused expression, but answered. "Depending on the clothes you plan to buy, anywhere from a few hours to the entire day. My sister will be back later, and she can help, so it may take less time."

Shay nodded. "We're still restocking supplies. I'm sure another day won't be much." He gently pushed me forward. "Talk to me when you've found some things you'd like."

The woman had to take some extra measurements, and so I stood in the room, devoid of clothes once more. When she came back, she had primarily pants and shirts, and she said we'd get to trying on waistcoats, coats, and shoes after these.

I picked out three pairs of pants-one grey, one brown, and one black-and three shirts-white, off-white, and an extremely light grey. The shirts didn't need much tailoring, she said, but the legs on the pants would need to be adjusted.

Next were the waistcoats, of which I chose three-dark red, dark grey, dark yellow-, and the coats; I chose two: one brown, one black.

Of the shoes she presented, I picked out a pair of black leather boots which covered my knees, and a pair of delicate-looking black shoes, the heel was raised a couple of inches and gave me the illusion of looking taller than I was. Aside from those, I picked out three pairs of dark grey stockings, a pair of garters in the same color, a pair of black leather gloves which I pulled on immediately to cover the scarring on my hand, and a plain black belt.

By the end, I'd come to the conclusion that 18th century fashion was lovely, but overly complicated. I mentally recounted how much clothing this was, and I hoped it wasn't too much. I remembered that Shay had significantly more clothing than that in the games, so hopefully he wouldn't mind it. Especially with the costs of most of it being specially tailored.

I threw on the modest dress and all the undergarments it demanded again, and clipped and pocketed my watch. The stay was more comfortable this time, and I made it a point to try to remember how exactly I'd put it on. I called for Shay to come in the back, to make a final appraisal of the clothing. He stared at them for a bit, but eventually nodded. I grabbed the yellow dress, extra stockings, and the boots, and waited while he discussed price and delivery with the woman. He handed her a good amount of paper notes, and we left.

As we walked back to the ship, I couldn't help but think that I'd just experienced the longest shopping trip of my life.


	14. Chapter 12: The Grandmaster's Manor

The next day passed quickly. Men were bringing supplies aboard, so I mostly sat on railing near the wheel. Shay was busy shouting orders at men, and I had nothing more to do most of the day than continue to read _The Odyssey_. The clothing Shay'd paid for arrived halfway through the day, and I stopped myself from putting it on. I could wear the dress for the rest of the day. The other clothes would be just as clean and new tomorrow as they were today.

Shay said we'd be staying another night, and just like the two previous, men vanished into the darkness-this time with orders to be back before dawn. Shay and I spent time talking, once again, about my time and the things I'd done. I didn't think they sounded that spectacular, but Shay, evidently, did.

The next morning, we set sail. We kept a steady speed of what Shay said was 10 knots, which I learned meant 10 nautical miles per hour. I also learned that a nautical mile was slightly larger than a regular mile, as well as plenty of slang associated with ships. I was still out-of-place, but I wasn't as clueless as I had been.

The voyage was short, less than 48 hours, before we docked in a small town. Shay instructed a stand-in first-mate to keep the ship in order, and he and I left the town before the sun had risen. I was wearing the yellow waistcoat, brown pants, and brown overcoat-more for ease of travel than anything. The rest of my possessions-little though they seemed to me-had been bundled up in a large drawstring bag, along with some provisions. Shay left for a half hour, and came back with horses. He didn't say how he got ahold of them, and I didn't ask. I doubted he'd murdered someone for them, but I wouldn't be _entirely_ surprised if they'd been stolen. To Shay's relief, I'd ridden horses a few times before, but he still needed to help me up on the large animal and give me some pointers.

We set off after he was certain I wouldn't be bucked off for somewhere further inland. We passed various farms and plantations, the latter often spotted with slaves harvesting and tending to crops. I still didn't like the sight, but after a couple of days on the road and nights in shady inns, it was becoming normal-that scared me, if I'm being honest.

By the time Shay directed us to a specific manor, my thighs were hurting from being on horseback for so long and we had gone through most of the food and drink we'd brought along.

We left our-borrowed?-steeds in the care of a stable hand, along with our belongings. He was eager to please, and a few "Master Shay"'s were dropped. I briefly wondered if I should be calling him that while we were here, but didn't ask. If I was supposed to, Shay would tell me.

I followed Shay to a pair of grand doors, peering at the lavish house. I felt even more out-of-place here. On the _Morrigan_ , I'd been surrounded by men who didn't much care for all this finery, and who were more concerned with the freedom that being out at sea offered. Here, I would likely be around people of high status, who wore only the finest clothes, ate the finest foods, had the finest that and this and another thing. I stuck close to Shay; he was the least fancy thing about the place in my mind, and that suited me just fine.

We were let into the building by a solemn looking man. He welcomed Shay as though they'd met many times before, and directed him and I to a room. I didn't hear the specifics, as I was too busy gawking at the house around me. Finely decorated, with paintings hung on the walls, busts sitting on tables, and exquisitely carved trimming separated the walls from the ceiling and floor. Stairs curved upward, the railing as elegant as the trimming. The artist in me was in awe, and the minimalist in me was panicking. I looked down at the shiny, shiny floor, and allowed Shay to lead me through the house. Doorways as expensive-looking as the rest of the house were littered throughout, and I let out a small yelp when Shay finally opened one and pulled me through.

In front of us were at least two dozen people-mostly men-, all dressed in nice clothes, standing and talking amongst each other. A couple turned to look at us, nodding to Shay but merely taking perplexed looks at me. I swallowed hard. I could pick out at least half of them-all of which were Templars that had appeared in game. The rest were unfamiliar to me, but given their company, it was easy to conclude they were Templars as well.

I felt more nervous than I had in the empty halls-I wasn't sure if Shay entirely trusted me yet, regardless of anything he'd said or done, and I felt all of my muscles tensed. I was fully prepared to bolt at any second if I needed to.

I thought I was going to subconsciously pull a muscle when Shay laid a hand on my mid-back and started guiding me past people. Most ignored me, but some seemed curious as to why I was there, and one-Johnson-even smiled at me. I smiled back, thankful that at least I didn't seem necessarily unwelcome.

"Shay." I heard a deep, sharply accented voice say. "It's good to see you." A pause. "Who is this?"

Before us sat none other than Haytham Kenway, dressed in the attire I had seen a hundred times before, and asking who I was. A part of me was excited, the other was… well, scared. I'd read _Forsaken_ , and even though it had shed a light on Haytham as a whole, it didn't change the fact that the man was getting more unstable and dangerous with age.

I prayed that I'd get on his good side.


	15. Chapter 13: Arrangements

"Master Kenway," Shay gave him a nod of respect. "This is Courtney. She's with me under… unusual circumstances." He looked around, then lowered his voice. "We'd like to speak with you in private, sir." I fiddled with the glove covering my scarred palm.

Haytham's eyes narrowed for a second, looking slowly from Shay to me. I felt his gaze as it raked over me, and hoped that whatever he was looking for, he didn't find anything bad. Once what appeared to be an inspection was done, he nodded. He turned to the people he'd been talking to previously and excused himself, then led us out of the room.

I was thankful to be away from quite so many Templars, but on edge from Haytham's presence. As I followed him and Shay through the large house, I wondered what exactly was going to happen to me. In-game, he'd killed some men as soon as they'd finished giving him information-he wouldn't do that to me, would he? I'd been cooperative so far, and I hadn't really given them any reason to think that I'd be anything but. I hadn't wanted to tell Shay of Charles Dorian, but that was due to feeling like someone would get killed. Surely that wouldn't be held against me, right?

We entered another room-a study, it looked like. It had several bookshelves, filled to the brim, a table with two chairs and a couch, a desk with one wooden chair, a fireplace, a woven rug, and a window. Haytham gestured towards the chairs and couch, and I waited until Shay had sat in one chair before I took the other. Haytham sat on the couch across from us.

"Now, what is it about this girl that you wanted to discuss?" Between his tone and his diction, it was clear Shay was to answer, and not me.

"It's a very complicated and delicate situation. She… well, I'm afraid you'll think us both mad, sir." Shay responded. Haytham waited for him to continue. "I found her outside of Boston, half dead from dehydration. I would have just taken her to a nearby doctor, but her hand…" He gave me a pointed glance. I removed the gloves, stuck out my left hand, willing myself not to flinch away as Haytham reached out to touch it. His brow furrowed, and he kept looking between my hand and my face.

"This looks remarkably similar to some of the precursor markings we've found…" He said quietly.

"Yes, I thought so, too. From what she's said and the way she looked when I first found her, she's not even from- from this time." I could understand why it would be hard to accept that. It's not everyday one met someone from the future.

Haytham looked up sharply, his attention now fully on me. "Pardon?"

I cleared my throat, retracted my hand gently. "I'm from the year 2015. I found an object along the side of the road, tried to pick it up, and, well, now I'm here." I thanked the spirits that my voice, though low, didn't waver as I spoke.

Haytham was quiet for a long, tense moment. "Can you recall anything about the object?"

I thought back to the moments before I had been dropped into a British camp. "I didn't pick it up by choice- it felt like… like it wanted me to. I couldn't ignore it. There was ringing in my ears, and it seemed like the rest of the world just… stopped existing. There was this flash of light, and I couldn't breathe, then I was brought to this time." I hoped he'd believe that I was telling the truth.

"Was it with you, then? When you were first brought here?" His brow wasn't as furrowed anymore, I took that as a good sign.

"I can't really remember. I was dropped into a camp of British soldiers, and my first instinct was to run; they didn't sound happy to see me." He nodded, closed his eyes. Shay seemed about as tense as I did.

"And why should we be concerned about you?" There it was-I knew he'd ask it at some point. Why should I be here? What purpose do I serve, beyond being evidence of yet another ability of the pieces of Eden?

I steadied myself, raised my chin. I looked more confident than I felt. "I have information about the Assassins and Templars covering the next decade."

That got his attention. His eyes snapped open, he leaned forward. "Do not joke around."

"I'm not."

Shay interjected. "She gave me information already, and if she's telling the truth, then we may be able to keep several of our brothers from dying, and we may retrieve the box sooner than expected."

Haytham still kept his eyes fixed on me. "How soon?"

"The informant I saw a few days ago said the same as her-Paris. If we maintain top-speed across the Atlantic, we can reach the city anywhere from a month and a half to three. Unfortunately, it says here that we'd have to wait until 1776 for the man to be given the box."

Haytham narrowed his eyes. "Are you certain that he is the earliest holder of the box you can recall?"

I looked away from him as I thought. "Charles Dorian might have been given the box by a man named Pierre Bellec. He was in the colonies during the time of the purge of Assassins Shay carried out. He traveled to France sometime in the early 60's, and rose in the ranks of the Assassins, eventually becoming a master." I let my gaze flick between the two men. "I don't know if he has it, but given his rank, he might be receiving correspondence related to the box. It might not be a bad idea to investigate him-" I had a thought. "discreetly, of course-you don't want to tip them off that you know anything. Come to think of it, the slightest misstep might end with the French Assassins developing a completely different plan, and Charles might never get the box, anyway." I wondered for a moment how my presence in this time was effecting things, then decided not to think too hard; I likely wouldn't be able to think of everything.

They were both still looking at me, I realized. "That's all I can think of."

The two men exchanged a look. Haytham cleared his throat. "I'm going to trust your judgement on this, Shay. Do you trust her?"

"She saved my life, sir."

"But do you _trust_ her?" His tone was sharper.

Shay nodded as he looked at me. "Yes, sir."

Haytham continued to look at him a moment. He leaned back and nodded. "Then I will as well." I had to stop myself from breathing a sigh of relief. At least it didn't seem like I was going to be killed. Not by them, and not today, anyway. Haytham spoke up again. "I suppose you have more information, then?"

"Primarily involving the actions of the Assassins in the next decade."

"Then you'll be staying with me for the majority of that duration." I fought back a flurry of questions, and instead asked just one.

"Why?"

"As the Grand Master of the Colonial Rite, I hear about almost anything that happens. My authority is nigh unquestioned, and if I order someone to do something, they will do it." He crossed his ankle over his knee. "If the information you provide is true, then the only way it can be put to good use is if someone with power can command others to take action to avoid disaster."

I guessed that was understandable. Still, I didn't feel quite comfortable around Haytham. I would have liked to stay with Shay.

"Shay," Haytham started, his tone shifting from explanatory to authoritative. "Go to France, seek out Pierre Bellec, find out what you can, and regardless of how long it takes, return to me with the box. Go." Shay nodded, and stood. He patted my shoulder and smiled at me as he left. I heard him ruffle through his coat and place something on a desk. I hoped he'd be back soon-ish. He was leaving with everyone I knew.

When the door closed, it was just me and Haytham. I shifted in my seat to sit up straighter. "So, how exactly is this going to work? I don't suppose you can just say 'Hey, she's here, deal with it.' and not raise any eyebrows, can you?"

The side of his mouth quirked up. "No. I'll have to figure something out. I could say you're an illegitimate child-though that would be frowned upon-or I could say I'm taking you on as an apprentice-a few boys your age enter apprenticeships-, though that would entail training and study. There are other options, of course." _Training?_

"Could you define 'training?'"

He stood up and walked to the desk. "It would include the same things any apprentice of a landowner would learn: literacy, foreign languages, self-defense, arithmetic, history, property management, etiquette-all things deemed important to the upper class." I guessed that made sense. And, the idea of actually having something to do while I was here, other than sit around and read through the massive collection of books Haytham possessed, was appealing. I admit to being a nerd.

"I think I'd like the idea of learning something when I'm not giving you information." I had a bit of experience in all of those areas, but it could never hurt to learn even more.

"You're certain? Most of your day would be taken up by study."

"It already was, back in my time." I internally cringed: I sounded too much like an elderly man.

Haytham contemplated it for a moment. "I suppose that would work out. The rest of the order shouldn't question it, as we already have women in our ranks." He nodded, seeming to reassure himself that it was indeed a good idea. He then opened the door. "Come along then, we should get you introduced and settled in." I pulled on my gloves again and got up.

As I stepped through the door, I mused on how I'd likely regret all of the past couple of weeks' decisions.


	16. Tumblr: Update

Hi! so, the tumblr now includes a few pages that you guys might find helpful! Biographies for OC's, an /About page, a timeline in case you get confused as to the happenings of the story, and an update calendar that is kept up to date with each chapter I finish writing.

Th URL is still thewolfandthejackal, I hope some of you find it as useful as I do!


	17. Chapter 14: Settling In

I spent most of the remainder of the day being led around by Haytham, who watched me like a hawk despite having said he'd trust me. I mingled with people who seemed significantly richer than I'd ever been-considering my immediate family hadn't been all that wealthy. I found a friend in William Johnson, who tolerated my presence and seemed happy enough to talk to me. Granted, we made mostly small-talk over the dinner of cod, pork, beef, and various vegetables that was served, but it was more agreeable to me than the critical eye of Kenway.

Guests departed in either pairs, small groups, or individually. Charles Lee was the last to depart, nodding in my direction as he passed me in the now nearly unoccupied room. I returned the gesture and looked to Haytham. He said a word to a couple of men who began cleaning the mess, then strode out, calling over his shoulder for me to follow.

He walked more slowly than Shay, but it was still an uncomfortable pace when indoors. He didn't look at me as he spoke. "Your things were brought in earlier and should be in the room on the other side of the hall and two doors down from my own. You will retire there every night after dinner-unless otherwise instructed-, keep any further belongings you acquire in there, and will go there if ordered to." I wasn't fond of this plan, but nodded.

"Each morning, you'll report to the dining room-which is behind that door-, for breakfast, then go to the study to either write out what information you feel is important, or to study. I'll see about locating a tutor, but until then, I'll trust you to do so independently. When I am not around, the study and your room are the only places you may go without one of my servants or maids accompanying you." Again, I nodded. I was even less fond of the idea of having so little time to myself, but I was more afraid of Haytham than I was angry about the loss of freedom.

"Dinner is eaten at noon in the dining room, and then you'll continue studying. After that, you will have supper, and then you will retire to your room for the night." He led us up one of the flights of stairs I'd seen earlier. "Until further notice, you won't be allowed to carry weapons of any sort, or any substance capable of killing someone or making them ill." _Fair enough,_ I thought, taking my knives out of my pockets and handing them to him.

"Would it be alright if I kept just this one?" I indicated the swiss army knife. He scrutinized it for a second, as if assessing what damage it could do. It was for nought, however, and he took it along with the rest.

"I'm afraid not." He said, not sounding all that apologetic. I sighed as he stopped in front of a door. "I understand that Shay may have been more lenient with you, but this is not his ship. You may gain certain privileges over time, but we can discuss that when it arises." He opened the door. "For the time that you are in my charge, this will be your home."

I stepped in, and was relieved to see it didn't look _quite_ as costly as the other rooms. While still much more extravagant than any room I'd ever lived in, it wasn't overly large or gaudily decorated. The walls were painted a soft dark blue, and white molding was accented with gold-colored paint. A bed covered in a set of similar colors was in the far right corner-I spotted my bag resting atop it. I counted two dressers-one larger than the other-, a vanity with a stool, a chair and what could pass as either a table or a desk, two book shelves, and three windows-two on the side farthest from me, and one to the right. A woven rug in alternating shades of blue and yellow was lied in the middle of the room, and a fireplace was on the left.

All in all, it was something that I, in my time, would have considered a bit excessive. But it was my home now, and I was simply glad that it was simple-relative to the rest of the house. I thanked Haytham, who said goodnight and closed the door as he left.

I walked over and sat down gingerly on the bed. I was still sore from riding horseback for the past three days. I laid back, my legs dangling off the side. I lied there for a while, not thinking, not sleeping. I was just resting. I hadn't realized the amount of stress I'd built up, and it was nice to just lay back and not worry. After so long of that-it could have been fifteen minutes, it could have been an hour-, I sat up, and started taking out my clothes and laying them on the bed. I counted them twice, and started to put them away in one of the dressers. Waistcoats, shirts, pants, and the dress went into different drawers on the smaller, while the larger was just barely filled with the rest. I set the dainty black shoes to the side of one, out of the way.

The room was chilly as I undressed, and still as much by the time I'd slipped on the chemise. I curled up under the covers of the bed, which felt just a bit too soft for me, and eventually managed to drift off to sleep.


	18. Chapter 15: Education is Important

I woke up long before dawn. I'd gotten accustomed to waking up earlier than I had over the past couple weeks-ships, Shay, and traumatic experiences did that, I supposed. After stretching out muscles that were less tense than usual, I dressed in greys. I'd just gotten my boots on when a knock sounded at the door. I opened it and was surprised to see a girl either my age or slightly younger standing there.

"Master Kenway requested that I wake you in the mornings from now on. I see I'm a bit late…" She shuffled her feet anxiously, looking like she was concerned she'd gotten something wrong. She seemed flighty with her auburn hair braided back tightly and green eyes darting around. Her accent reminded me of Shay; I liked her as soon as she finished speaking.

"I like to be early. What's your name?" I closed the door to the room-to _my_ room.

"Grace, and you're Courtney." She giggled. "I thought you were a boy for a second, honestly."

"I'd say I'm offended, but I've gotten that before, so I'll forgive you." I grinned and laughed, just so she knew it was a joke and didn't get scared off. "If you could, would you mind showing me to the dining room, again? I'd hate to get lost in here and end up somewhere he doesn't want me." She nodded enthusiastically, and I trailed behind her. She was taller than me, and her legs made up most of her height-it looked like she'd had to elongate the skirt she wore.

When we walked in, the room was, again, mostly empty. Haytham was nowhere to be seen, and the only other occupant was a woman setting down a platter. As we approached, I spotted an entire loaf of fresh-baked bread, eggs, some cut of pork I hadn't eaten before, and fresh fruit. My mouth was watering before I'd sat down.

Grace ducked out of the room and into another that I'd missed the night before. A variety of smells and sounds of food and clanging metal originated from there, so I could only assume it was a kitchen. I wondered if there was some sort of etiquette to the meal that I was missing, worried that it would be impolite to eat now if Haytham hadn't done so already. I looked at the woman, and she only smiled politely at me. It unfortunately didn't help my current situation.

Just as I was about to start stuffing my mouth, I heard footsteps and looked up to see Haytham walking in. The only difference in appearance from the night before was the disappearance of his hat and outer layer, leaving his red waistcoat bared to the world. I looked away and waited until he sat down.

"Good morning." I heard from across the table. I met his eyes and responded in kind.

"Morning." I watched his hands for any unusual table manners, and as far as I could tell, they were more or less the same as those in my time. That in mind, I started filling the plate in front of me with small portions of what was offered. I was, yet again, glad that dairy hadn't been an issue. I would have to inform Haytham of that soon, or suffer any consequences in the future.

"Shay left these papers before he departed. I assume you wrote them?" He'd placed the neatly stacked collection on the table between us, right between the bread and the fruit. I looked them over briefly and nodded when I recognized my handwriting. "Good. I read through them last night. Everything in them is true?"

"Yes. I may have missed something here and there, but it's all true." I finished my sentence before I shoved a mouthful of eggs in my mouth. It felt wonderful to be eating fresh food again.

He sighed and took a bite of an apple. When he'd swallowed, he spoke. "Theresa, would you mind leaving us?" The woman who'd been standing by us nodded, and walked into the room Grace had. Haytham turned back to me. "You're telling me the Assassins are going to gain control of the revolution? You're certain?"

I paused in between bites. "Control, not really. It's more… they help it along when it happens to be detrimental to the Templars. They're not as concerned about the revolution as they are you and your associates."

"You're aware you now count as one of my associates?"

"And here I was, thinking I was your apprentice." The words left my mouth before I could clamp it shut, and while I did a fair enough job of hiding my fear as to what his reaction would be, I remained calm on the outside.

"You're both." he replied plainly. We ate the rest of the meal in silence. "I hope you're aware that you will have to begin your studies today." He said. "Since you mentioned yesterday you'd already been engaged in studies before you came here, I'd like to discuss what level you're at with each subject."

"Of course." I said, standing as he did. He led us back to the study we'd been in yesterday. I made it a point not to focus on the scenery this time.

He indicated the chairs again, and I sat in the same one as yesterday. He walked over with some paper, a quill, inkpot, and a pencil., and sat down in the chair beside me. At least I wouldn't be struggling with the quill-this time. He'd probably make me learn to use it.

"I've already seen you're well-versed enough in reading and writing. Normally the education boys and girls receive is mostly different, but we'll combine them in this case. Girls your age typically have studied or are studying things like needlework, the arts, cooking, music, and often French." He wrote the subjects down in ink, one per unmarked "line'-I suspected we'd fill that in later. "Boys normally learn mathematics, history, geography, fencing, property management, navigation, science, Greek, and Latin." He finished writing it all down, then wrote one more thing. "Everyone learns social etiquette."

I stared at the list, and reviewed the terms, trying to calculate just how much I was familiar with and how much I wasn't. I wouldn't have a problem with any of the "girl" subjects aside from French. History, geography, and science were simple enough for me, mathematics wouldn't be too difficult. Hiking had taught me basic navigation, so that wouldn't be awful. I figured property management would involve some of the material I'd learned in my personal finance class. Really, the only ones I was worried about were French, Greek, Latin, and fencing. Was he honestly going to hire someone to teach me fencing after his remarks last night?

"Most of this is easy. The only things I'd be concerned about are the foreign languages and fencing. Property management, mathematics, and navigation are in the middle, more towards easy." I said.

"You've never learned a foreign language before?" He asked, writing the words "focus" next to the four subjects.

"I learned a bit of Spanish, but the study wasn't very intense, and I was only in my second year of learning it. I could name you colors, keep a very simple conversation, exchange the barest of pleasantries, and describe a room in simple sentences, but anything more is stretching it. I also know Italian, but the same conditions apply." The American education system hadn't prioritized foreign language, and my taking Spanish had been a choice, not a requirement. I was thankful though, as the teacher himself was fun to learn from, and had actually lived in Argentina for a considerable length of time.

"We can start with Spanish, and over time we'll branch out into the others. French and Latin use similar mechanics to Spanish, so they shouldn't be as complicated as they would be otherwise. If you wish, then you can study Italian at the same time as Greek." I supposed that was alright. I wondered how much time this would take, and stopped myself from wandering down the train of thought that I may never get home.

"And fencing?"

"I'll be teaching you myself." _No._ It wasn't that I was against learning to fence, but Haytham? I knew he was good with a sword, and part of me wasn't terribly eager to raise a blade of any kind against him. The other part, however, was squealing in delight at the chance to learn from a master of the art.

"And the rest?"

"I'll instruct whomever I pick to tutor you to focus primarily on foreign languages and social etiquette; property management, mathematics, and navigation will be secondary focuses. The rest will be of least concern."

We spent the rest of the time until lunch focusing on more details of my "training", and by then we'd had an entire plan for my education laid out.

I decided then that if I ever got back to the 21st century, I'd bring Haytham with me to help me plan for college.


	19. Chapter 16: Home?

I spent the rest of the day in my room trying to decipher _Don Quixote_ , which Haytham had handed to me prior to him leaving. I was having issues left and right _-izquierda y derecha_ , I mocked in my mind-when Grace knocked on my door to summon me for dinner. Haytham was nowhere to be seen, although some of the few servants-they were certainly too finely dressed, fed, and groomed to be slaves of any kind, I decided-were watching me most of the time.

Things continued on like this for two weeks and three days, Haytham's presence still absent from his luxurious house the entire time. I made fast friends with Grace; we both credited it to the fact that the only other ones our age were a handful of boys who tended to the land outside. She had a basic education for this time, and I enjoyed teaching her how to read better, how to do more advanced math, a couple recipes, a couple pranks (she got in trouble for one, luckily it was a small thing)-anything that I knew, she didn't, and that wouldn't give away that I was from more than two centuries into the future.

On the day of Samhain, I was unable to do much more than meditate and offer some prayers to the dead late at night. I made a mental note to test the waters on my religion with Haytham.

A handful of nights were spent uncomfortably-not from the bed or any drafts, but from images of people in chains, a flash of red disappearing under waves, and of family I'd rather forget. I didn't tell Grace as I doubted she'd understand it. I contemplated asking Haytham if he dealt with the same, but then decided I didn't trust him enough. Shay, then, if I ever saw him again. A part of me was scared I wouldn't, but I rationalized that he had years, _decades_ , of training to speak of. I looked up to him, and he seemed compassionate enough that he wouldn't blow it off as some kid being scared of shadows in their closet.

When Haytham did return, two weeks and four days after he'd departed, a man in his late twenties with a thick French accent was with him. His name was long, complicated, and likely meant he was of nobility of some sort, but over time I came to simply know him as Etienne Boullainvillier, my tutor. He was scatter-brained, easy to get off track-but a good teacher nonetheless. It was particularly fun to see him get riled up when we discussed French politics. He was apparently a fervent supporter of change being brought to the absolutist regime being run in France, and had more than enough words to write a novel on the subject.

After bringing Etienne to the estate, Haytham vanished again two days later, saying that he had business to attend to: Templar business. He was gone for a month. During that time, I was busy learning the intricacies of colonial etiquette, how to speak Spanish and Italian-and French, at Etienne's insistence-, bonding with Grace-who I came to learn was a master at picking locks, much to my delight-, and reading through a number of books in the study. There was a severe lack of swordplay being learned in that time, and I was grateful. Haytham didn't strike me as a pushover of a teacher like Etienne.

By the time I'd spent over two months in the 18th century, I'd become accustomed to not properly bathing for weeks, though I still learned to use a straight razor every three or four days. My hair was starting to grow out more, and I questioned Grace about getting it cut, and while she was reluctant to do so-" _Oh, you'd look so lovely with long hair, though! Are you sure?"_ -she agreed to cut it back down to an inch and a half. She was gentle with my hair despite its shortness, and I found that I rather liked the feeling of her hands combing through my hair.

I was hesitant to admit it to myself but… I was beginning to like it here. If I didn't let my mind wander to the massive amount of human's rights violations that were going on worldwide, the secret Templar-Assassin war and which side I'd end up benefitting the most, the constant threat of death by what I'd once considered inane illness, and the fact that I wasn't even supposed to exist yet, it was sort of… nice. When I'd first been sent back, I'd wanted nothing more than to get back home.

The definition of home was starting to blur.


	20. Chapter 17: Swordsmanship

There was a knock on my door. The deep voice of Etienne requested permission to come in. I finished dressing-black pants and coat, burgundy waistcoat, white shirt, boots, the usual-, pocketed my watch, and slipped on my gloves. "Come in!" I called out.

Etienne strutted into my room, words pouring out of his mouth as he smoothed back the chestnut hair he kept just a bit too short to be tied behind his head. "Master Kenway has said that today your lessons are to be… well… there won't be lessons!" He sounded indignant. "What kind of madness is this? How does he expect me to do my job and teach you if he cancels lessons?" I stifled a laugh, but had to wonder when Haytham had come back-last night or this morning?

"Yeah, what a shame he's asking for one day after an entire month of you and I studying every single day." I said. My eyes rolled, quickly, before he had the chance to turn to me and narrow his eyes.

"That may be the case, but still, it's a disruption to the schedule I had. Now we'll be a day behind on everything," He explained, muttering near the end. He sighed. "Whatever the case, your master wants to see you in the drawing room, he didn't say much more than that." I paused. Master? I wasn't sure I liked the sound of that. But it was an interesting conversation starter for later.

"Did he say what time?"

"I imagine he'd like for you to be there after breakfast." Etienne said, starting to walk out the door. I followed him, and as I shut the door, I heard him talking under his breath, trying to figure out dates for lessons.

Breakfast was a short occasion for me. Regardless of how superior the food was to ship fare and how Grace seemed even happier than usual today, I didn't want to waste time I could be spending figuring out what Haytham was playing at by calling off my studying for the day. I still didn't trust the man, and him doing things involving me made me nervous.

I said goodbye to Grace and made my way to the drawing room. The open space in the middle looked larger than usual, the chairs and small tables pushed more closely to the sides. Haytham stood near the far window, examining some things on a larger table with his back to me.

"So, _Master_ , care to explain a few things?" I drawled, crossing the room.

He looked to me, minor annoyance on his face. After one last look at… whatever he was looking at, he turned to face me. "As far as anyone outside of the order is concerned, I'm your master." I made a face at his words.

"Excuse me?"

He rolled his eyes. "A master is someone of a free trade who may or may not pass their skills on to someone else. Did they really not have the title in your time?"

"No, we had parents, teachers, and authorities, but we didn't typically call people our 'masters.'" I used air quotations to emphasize how ridiculous I thought the term was. "The only time the term 'master' was used was in either historical fiction or erotic fantasies. Hence why I don't like it."

He sighed. "It isn't as though I'm asking you to refer to me as master every time you speak to me. It's simply a way of defining the relationship between us so people better understand it."

"Alright, fair enough." I eyed the table behind him. "What is it you wanted me for?"

He got this funny look on his face. It was somewhere between smug and delighted. He stepped to the side to reveal… swords. Two were wooden, and looked shorter in length, another two were short swords, and another two were full-length one-handed swords with hand guards. The latter four were very clearly made of steel, and were very clearly well-maintained.

"It's time to teach you to wield a sword." He said it with a hint of amusement, likely at the blank expression I took on. He wasted no time in lecturing me on the basics of swordplay.

We spent the entire morning empty-handed, Haytham instructed me on proper posture, proper movement, proper this, proper that, proper, proper, _proper_. I was sick of it by the time a servant announced that lunch-dinner, I was reminded it was called in this time-had been prepared.

I spent most of the meal scowling at Haytham, who seemed to be ignoring my immaturity. Admirable, but infuriating. Afterwords, I was herded back into the same room, and the lessons continued.

The next day was spent slightly differently. In the morning I had my lessons with Etienne, as I was accustomed to. In the afternoon, I was in the drawing room with Haytham, who would criticize me as I tried to mimic the different poses and movements he would strike, and then have me exercise-in all the nice clothing that Shay had bought me weeks ago. Three days more passed like this. He had me run around the estate in the snow once, jogging at what he made look like a leisurely pace just beside me-he made jabs at me a few times, verbal and physical. By the time we'd reached the house again, I'd wanted to punch him. It was cold, and all he'd said was that my performance had been "satisfactory" for the day.

The fourth day, I decided to ask the question that had been crashing through my skull from day one of Haytham's "lessons" on swordplay. It was just after he'd made a side comment, that smug smile lighting up his face. "When do I get to use one of those sticks," I jabbed a thumb in the direction of the wooden swords. "- to smack that look off your face?" He looked more smug, if that was even possible.

"You think that you'd stand a chance in a fight against me at this point?" He was laughing as he said it.

"Oh no, not really, I just want the opportunity. At least then I can say I tried."

"And failed horribly."

"Hey…" I said quietly, almost forlornly. He looked at me, his expression about as close to worried as I thought it could get. "Fuck you." I said softly, a small smile on my face. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

I didn't get to pick up a wooden sword for a few weeks.


	21. Chapter 18: Pack Your Bags

Months passed, my training and studying was limited to the indoors at first due to worsening weather. I spent my free time-what little I managed to find-either with Grace, reading, or drawing. While I still didn't very well trust Haytham, I'd come to like having him around. He wasn't always as accommodating for my various smart-ass remarks as Shay had been, and sometimes he was a bit prickly. That said, the banter between us was amusing, and we had grown more relaxed around each other by the time May 1773 rolled around.

I was growing more proficient with a sword, and was training to use daggers as well. Haytham had said it would be important in the upcoming months that I be able to defend myself if needed. I disliked the idea of fighting Connor, but I knew that if he tried to kill me for helping the Templars, I'd have to be able to do something.

Haytham had acquired a bow and quiver for me, along with several arrows, and I practiced archery on my own-Haytham had proven to not be quite as good at it as he'd first thought. Picking up fire-arms was simple enough, having had experience with more advanced forms in my time. America and it's love of guns had helped me there. The reloading was an issue, and I disliked the complicatedness of it, but I learned to deal with it over time. I still preferred archery.

Haytham wouldn't allow me to carry any of those weapons, but he had returned my pocket knives halfway through March. In addition, I had more freedom to wander on days when Haytham or Etienne were not available. On such days, I had a comfortable five-or ten, if they were both absent-hours during which I could do anything I wished, and I often spent it exploring the world outside the mansion I'd grown so used to. I'd sometimes take a small, empty book with me to sketch plants or tracks in, and later look them up in the books in the study.

Other times, I'd free-run. The large house had left little room for practicing, and the forests nearby were filled with old, sturdy trees. I fell more than once, and was fussed over by Grace and Etienne both, but I'd gotten lucky by not breaking a bone. My pallor darkened only slightly, and even then only after I suffered sunburns.

Today, 27 May, was one of those days. I was jumping from branch to branch, concentrating whole-heartedly on not slipping. When I dropped to the ground, I let out a relieved sigh. I hadn't messed up at all today, and I was glad for it. I stayed low to the ground when I heard the sound of hooves.

"Courtney!" It was Haytham. He'd been gone the past few days. I stood up and waved to reveal my location. He dismounted and approached me, peering at the forest around us.

"I didn't think you'd be back today." I said.

He gave me a sardonic grin. "Sorry to disappoint you. I came to let you know we'll be traveling to Boston in three days."

I blinked. "Three days? Why?"

"You said that our Assassin will begin disrupting our operations in November. I want us to be there to stop him before he begins."

I cast my eyes to the ground; I hadn't yet told Haytham that the Assassin he spoke of was none other than his son. I sighed and looked back at him. "Haytham, there's something you need to know before all of this happens…"

His eyes narrowed. He nodded.

I wondered whether to use tact or not, and decided to go my favored route of simply being blunt. "This Assassin, the one we're going to be having problems with, he's your son." He stared at me for a moment, face unreadable.

"My son?" I nodded. He looked away from me briefly, then back to me. He cleared his throat. "If he gets in our way, he will be treated the same as any other Assassin." I swallowed and nodded. I really didn't want to fight Connor. If I could keep him from causing the issues, however… Distract him, keep him from getting too close to sabotaging the order's plans, I might not have to worry about him being killed.

I mounted the horse behind Haytham, and we returned to the mansion in silence.

That night, as I lied in bed, I tried to remember everything I could about this part of the game. The best strategies, what full-synchronization entailed, how I'd done it, what the most realistic way of doing it would be. I knew that if it came down to a fight, the best I'd be able to do against Connor right now was defend myself. Haytham had been teaching me more than just "self-defense", but Connor had brute force, and more training. I'd have to get familiar with the area, formulate a plan, a back-up plan, an emergency escape route, find allies who'd help me without question-a number of Templars could help me there, I knew-, ask Johnson about the specifics regarding the tea.

If I failed, it's possible that either the events of the game would unfold, or Connor would be killed. But Haytham… Haytham hadn't been able to kill Connor-emotionally, he hadn't been able to bring himself to kill his own son or watch him die. He hadn't been able to do so three separate times-why would that change now?

But I knew I couldn't rely on that. Haytham might not kill him, but another Templar may. They didn't have the same reservations, because he wasn't their son. He was just another Assassin. He was an enemy to all Templars by virtue of that.

I wondered if I was considered a Templar at this point, or at least associated with them closely enough to be lumped in with them. I guess the latter held true at this point. Would Connor hate me upon finding that out about me? It's not like I'd _intended_ for this to happen, it just… had. I wanted peace between the Templars and the Assassins, and Haytham and Connor were still here. A father and son, two people who had the potential for a bond, but needed a little… push.

I had a million things on my mind as I drifted off to sleep.


	22. Chapter 19: Hide and Seek

Three days later, I said my goodbyes to Etienne and Grace. The latter of which was holding back tears as we hugged, until Haytham reminded me that we were on a schedule. I waved as I climbed atop a horse-the same I'd ridden here, I found. I elected to name him Antony, after Mark Antony, Master of the Horse.

It took us four days to reach Boston, and that was with us only stopping for meals and to sleep. Haytham had wanted to avoid drawing eyes, so a carriage was out of the question, and walking would have taken much too long. We didn't stop at inns along the way, instead camping out at night, sleeping on sleeping bags perfectly suited for winter. I took some time two of those nights to thoroughly wash myself in nearby streams, which improved my mood significantly, and made Haytham scoff.

When we did arrive in Boston, I was struck by a feeling of nostalgia. We passed a spot I vaguely recalled passing out in, and carried on into the city. Haytham led the way to none other than the Green Dragon Tavern, where we dismounted, grabbed our things, and walked in. I recognized the pair that ran the place from the game, and merely followed Haytham as he paid for our rooms and led us to them. He bid me goodnight, and we retired to our respective temporary quarters.

I was tossing and turning throughout the night due to how noisy the city seemed compared to the isolated mansion I'd lived in the better part of a year, now. That, and the heat. It was early June now, and it seemed the weather had nothing better to do than try to bake all those who lived in the area.

When morning came, I changed into clean clothes-grey pants, waistcoat, and shirt and the black coat-and grabbed my watch. I slipped on my gloves as I walked out of the door. Haytham was sitting at the table on the upper floor, and he nodded to me in greeting.

"So, what's on the daily agenda?" I asked as I sat next to him.

"A few of my associates will be joining us later. Of course, nothing will occur until after sun-down, when the innkeeper and barkeep start shooing patrons out. Until then, I'd like to train you in the art of subtlety." He replied, voice low enough that only I heard.

"Define 'subtlety', please." I responded, lowering my voice as well.

"If you wish to be anywhere save locked up in an inn while we do our work, I need to be certain that you won't be a liability. As is, you stand out like a sore thumb. What I hope to do is make it so you can blend in." Stealth. He wanted to teach me stealth. I'd won more than a few games of hide-and-seek by picking excellent hiding spots, but I guessed I did stick out. From the way I walked, talked, and behaved, someone could very easily make out where I was in a crowd.

"Sounds like fun. We are eating first, though, right?"

After finishing a breakfast consisting of eggs, biscuits, and some sort of wild berries that tasted a bit sour, Haytham led me out of the tavern. We walked through the city side by side, with me gawking at things left and right, and Haytham chiding me when I wandered a bit too far away from him. Finally, we came to a stop in front of a shop.

He looked around for a moment. "This will do nicely."

"Alright, so what are we doing first?" I asked. He smiled and joined a group of walking pedestrians, leaving me on the sidewalk. I stared after him for a moment then jogged to catch up. He looked around and shook his head at me.

He mouthed the words "stay hidden" to me and turned back. I stopped, and looked around. I started walking with a small group of people headed in the same direction as him. All was going well until he moved to a different group. I broke away from the small group I was with and struggled to jump into another one.

We continued on like this for a solid hour: he'd move from group to group, navigating the city with ease, and I'd attempt to mimic what he did. He walked into an alleyway, and I followed. He stood near the other end, waiting for me.

"For a first attempt, not bad. You need to work on making your transitions smoother, and matching your pace to that of those you're hiding among. You tend to walk faster than them. Also, try not to look so focused on the person you're following. That'll get you noticed before anything else." He said.

"Now, I'm going to go talk with one of my associates. I want you to follow us from a distance, try to remain unseen by him. He hasn't met you, yet, so he doesn't know who you are, and he won't be looking for your face in a crowd. He doesn't even know you're following him. You have the advantage. Use it." And with that, Haytham began walking. I waited until he was some distance away, and started to tail him.

After fifteen minutes of tracking him through winding streets, crowds, and over rooftops-I almost got shot by a redcoat, and I could see Haytham smiling to himself as he stepped onto a rope to run across-, he paused in an area near the docks. He leaned against a building and waited. I stayed nearby, moving among some people crowding around vendors on the street, trying to look as interested in the different wares as they were.

Five minutes or so later, I saw Haytham move, and spotted what looked like Thomas Hickey sauntering over to him. The two took a street deeper into the city. I kept my distance, sometimes pausing to let them round a corner not that far from me, or hurrying to jump into a passing group that wouldn't take me too close to them.

They came to a top in front of the Green Dragon tavern, and Haytham waved me over.

"Do you recognize her?" Haytham asked Hickey.

"Wha-? Nah, I'd remember a pretty thing like her if I saw her." I resisted the urge to make a face. Instead, I glanced at Haytham.

"Good. It looks like you can successfully tail a drunk, Courtney." Hickey looked between us confusedly.

"Whoo, go me. I can stay hidden from a guy who doesn't know I exist." I dead-panned. Haytham and I walked into the tavern, Hickey trailing behind us, just as confused as before.

"Are one of you gonna explain what's going on?"

"No."

"No."


	23. Chapter 20: Peer Pressure

Despite my dislike of his flirtatious remarks, Hickey was alright. Also, I didn't really like that he tended to try to sex up the serving girls when I was sitting right next to him, but I digress.

Haytham had left earlier, saying he needed to run a few errands before the rest of the group arrived. That left me with Hickey.

We got along fine enough, cracking jokes at this and that-Haytham being such a stick in the mud was a recurring theme. This went on for about an hour. But, he was a drunk, and I'd only snuck sips of cooking wine from my fridge on occasion. I told him something to that effect, and suddenly I had a mug of beer plopped down in front of me.

"Listen, you're gonna be around men who can drink any one of those guys down there under the table. If you can't keep up, no-one's gonna take you seriously, and you're already gonna have enough problems with that, sweetheart." He was grinning, drawing his words out as he spoke. He leaned closer, his tone dropping to something conspiratorial. "Plus, the big guy, Haytham, he'd think better of you if he didn't think he had to watch you all the time." I narrowed my eyes.

I'd prided myself on my ability to make good decisions back in my time. Peer pressure hadn't been a problem to deal with. But now, a more prideful part of me was taking over. I wanted to prove myself to these people, even if it wasn't exactly wise to do so in this manner. I looked into the froth sitting atop the beverage. It wouldn't hurt if I had just one, right? And Haytham had trusted me to be left around Hickey-the most he'd do to take advantage of me would be to see me do something humiliating, right? Banishing the thoughts from my mind, I smiled at Hickey.

"Fine, I'm game. This'll probably be easy." I grabbed the mug by the handle and brought it to my lips. Hickey wore a self-satisfied smirk as I started to drink.

It tasted _awful_. I was pretty sure the only thing worse that I'd tasted had been pills that I'd let sit in my mouth because I was too worried about choking to death to swallow them. I stopped myself from spluttering; Hickey was sitting there, waiting for me to give up. I kept drinking the entirety of the foul-tasting liquid. I was certain that piss tasted better.

When I finally brought the container away from my lips, Hickey slow-clapped. I had to wonder why so many people I'd met in this time managed to be so asinine.

"Looks like you passed the first test, darling." He said, downing another cup of beer. "Now, one more and then we'll see how you handle your alcohol."

When Haytham came back an hour later, I was tipsy. I hoped he wouldn't ask me to walk straight, because I knew I would be unable to. I was thankful for the dimmed lighting up here, because otherwise he might notice my flushed cheeks. Maybe he did, and just credited it to Hickey's ways. _Ew._

"Johnson will be here within the hour, as will Church. Pitcairn will arrive later. No word from Charles." He informed us as he sat down.

"Right, right, now, mind telling me why we got her here?" Hickey nodded towards me.

"Courtney has valuable information regarding several future events. While how she acquired this information is unimportant, she is not." I nodded lazily as Haytham spoke.

"What, she some kinda…" He waggled his fingers in a gesture mocking magic as he tried to think of a good word. "Prophet?" He said finally.

"Regardless of what she is, you need only know that she is to remain alive." Haytham said, not giving away anything.

Hickey held his hands up. "Alright, alright, keep the girlie alive and well, fair enough." He grinned at me. I heard the door open, and Haytham went to check. Hickey leaned over to me. "How you doing, sweetheart? Looks like the alcohol's hitting you pretty hard. Sure you don't wanna go take a nap?" I sneered at him, the effect lost with how woozy I felt.

"Go fuck yourself with a lamp post." I muttered to him. He chuckled as he went back to lounging in his seat. Haytham came back up, William Johnson right behind him. Johnson gave me a small smile and nod. I did the same. Haytham disappeared into the room he was staying in after saying something to Johnson.

"It's good to see you again, though I can't say I expected to see you of all people here."

"The boss-man is keeping a real close eye on her, says she's…" He leaned in, speaking lowly. "...important." He leaned back, laughing loudly. Johnson shook his head and took a seat across and to the left from me.

He took a moment to look at me. "Are you feeling alright?" I quickly smiled as Hickey's shit-eating grin widened.

"I'm fine, really. I'm just a little… out of it right now. I'm sure I'll be fine before tonight." I quickly reassured. Johnson didn't seem to believe me, but he let it go.

"Of course. Now, how have you been?"

I made a wiggly hand gesture. "Busy with study and training, but alright. I'm not entirely used to living in luxury, so it's kind of… unsettling, I guess." I really hadn't liked how fancy Haytham's mansion felt. His estate was no different: perfectly kept gardens, stables that practically gleamed with how well cared for they were, roads that were beaten into the ground and couldn't be mistaken for a deer-trail by anyone. While I appreciated it, it just felt like too much for me at times. It was why I liked spending my time out in the forests around his property instead.

"Training?" Johnson's brow furrowed.

"Weapons training. He wants me to be able to defend myself." I replied. Johnson let out a small "Ah." and nodded.

I sat back and listened to Johnson and Hickey converse, occasionally interjecting with a comment of my own, for the next four hours, sobering up over that time.

Church had arrived quietly and commented bitterly on the traffic outside when he took his seat, and Pitcairn had arrived two hours after, lamenting the red tape that had kept him longer than his Templar brothers. Lee came last, surprised to see me sitting there, but acting politely despite that. He apologized for not arriving earlier, and took his seat.

All that was left, was for night to fall and Haytham to join us.


	24. Chapter 21: A Dark Congregation

When Haytham walked in, we fell silent. Haytham took his seat at the head of the table, just to my right. I was thankful I didn't seem to be drunk at this point. Haytham clasped his hands in front of him.

"Our friend here," He nodded to me. "has informed me of some problems that we will have in the near future. It will begin with Johnson's tea operation being meddled with by an Assassin. The year after, he will be killed." Everyone seemed unsettled.

"And just how does she know this?" asked Lee, narrowing his eyes at me from across the table.

"The explanation is complicated, though Shay and I have deducted that it involves a piece of Eden. The specifics are best kept between the three of us." He said it with a tone of finality. "What the rest of you need to be concerned about is how we'll be handling the situation at hand." He let his eyes roam over them, before settling on me. "Would you care to delve into the specifics?" I nodded and straightened up.

"The issues will revolve mainly around Johnson's tea operations here in Boston. The Assassin will start causing problems near the beginning of November, so we'll have to be prepared to handle any issues by then." I paused out of nervousness, and had to remind myself Haytham wanted me to speak, and he was in charge here. "First: the tax collectors. They'll either need to be protected when collecting money and delivering it, or we'll need to change the days and times they go about their business. It's possible that if we make their schedules erratic the day the Assassin is meant to get here, they'll be able to evade him, and Johnson will get his funds from them."

"How can we ensure the Assassin won't get that information?" Pitcairn asked. His tone wasn't mean, just curious and weary.

"He's acting alone, mostly. While he has some help from those who'll be trying to break the colonies away from Britain, the Assassin brotherhood is still weak here in the colonies."

"Fair enough, but the collectors wouldn't be happy about the schedule changes. How can we convince them to cooperate?" The question was from Johnson this time.

"If you pay them extra that day, they might be willing to deal with it." I cut him off before he spoke again. "I know it isn't the most favorable solution, but if it works, you'll be spared a massive amount of expenses. If we need to, we can alter the plan. We have time, and we know what's going to happen." I paused. "Well, I know what's going to happen, anyway."

"What else?" Haytham questioned.

"He'll try to blow up some crates of smuggled tea throughout the city." I thought for a moment. "Decoys, maybe? Hide the actual tea somewhere else, move it every now and then, but leave decoys in their place. Even if he does manage to destroy some, chances are likely he'll miss a few."

"And how will we pay for that?" Lee wondered aloud.

"I… uh…" I wasn't really sure.

"We'll figure it out later. Right now we need a basic idea of what is going to happen and what we'll be doing about it." Haytham interjected. He nodded at me to continue.

"One more thing in November, and two in December. There will be at least two smugglers that will be targeted. I suggest they receive the same treatment as the tax collectors, whatever that ends up being. 3 December, he'll assist a Frenchman in killing a tax collector. I suggest we intervene.

"On 16 December, he'll be assisting a group known as the Sons of Liberty in throwing a good amount of tea off of two ships. Again, we could have decoys, though it may be better to keep them off-shore and out of swimming distance altogether that night in particular." I wondered if, in that case, he'd consider using the _Aquila_ to blow them up from a distance. I doubted it, but I wasn't sure. Connor could be rather rash at times.

"And that's all you have for us?" Haytham asked.

"For the time being. The next issue pops up in July of next year. And, it may change depending on what happens between now and then." I replied.

The table was quiet for a moment, as though the men around me were letting my words sink in, thinking of plans and making future arrangements in their heads.

"If that's it, you are free to do as you please until tomorrow. If we require further knowledge, we'll discuss this again tomorrow." Haytham said to me. I nodded, stood, and departed. The thought of retiring for the night crossed my mind, but instead I went down the stairs and exited the tavern.

The night was quiet, only a few people walked the streets, and I saw no vendors trying to sell their goods. I started off towards the docks, knowing that most of the action in the upcoming months would take place there.

The docks had sailors and soldiers wandering around. I stuck to the shadows, and avoided them for the most part. I was stopped a couple of times by red-clad soldiers, and replied that I was a courier, and had to deliver some messages by word of mouth. They seemed to buy it and we went our separate ways both times.

I recognized several spots from my time spent playing the game. A marketplace here, a tavern there, a church over yonder. I took to the roofs, staying in shadows as much as I could to navigate through the city, with no goal in mind beyond familiarizing myself with the area. By the time I returned to the tavern, I was tired, and the men had finished their planning. I nodded to Lee and Pitcairn as I walked to my room, where I stayed until the next morning.


	25. Chapter 22:Certainty-Uncertainty

The next month passed not unlike that first day. Haytham trained me in stealth in the mornings, alternating through the different allies that had joined us in Boston, and I did marginally better than the day prior each time. After sundown, we gathered at the table to discuss our plans for the upcoming months. I spent most of my free time getting to know the area, looking for paths to the rooftops, out of the city, entrances to the underground. I didn't go into the underground quite yet, not prepared to face the possibility of getting lost in the darkness below the city. I'd have to do so soon, though, else I'd miss any chance to really discover them.

I came to get to know the other Templars better, eventually coming to consider them trustworthy acquaintances of sorts, and Hickey even became something of a "friend" to me. I wouldn't trust him with most information about myself, but he was fun enough to be around. We would go to taverns throughout the city, I'd have two or three drinks-slowly coming to accept the taste as just bad rather than revolting-, and he'd have a dozen, and then we'd return to the Green Dragon. Lee would comment that I shouldn't spend my time with someone like Hickey, and then they'd argue, and Pitcairn or Johnson would break it up.

Johnson was still the mildest-mannered one. While not a push-over by any means, he took the time each morning to greet me, would have lengthy conversations with me, and he seemed to not mind teaching me mathematics or science, for which I was grateful.

Pitcairn, I came to find, was more serious than the others, but more mild-tempered than Church. While he didn't play along with my games oftentimes, he wasn't rude to me either. I came to respect him, though I didn't go out of my way on his behalf for many reasons.

Church wasn't someone I liked. He was short-tempered, sharp-tongued, and flighty. I spent most time around him snickering at Hickey's near-constant hassling of the man.

Lee was polite towards me. He took Haytham's word that I could be trusted, but didn't give me any special treatment. The most interaction we had was brief conversations and pleasantries, or talk during the nightly meetings. Remembering what he'd done to a four-year-old Connor made me keep my distance, anyway.

Haytham was locked in his room most of the time between our daily training and the meetings. Tonight, however, he'd requested that I meet with him at the docks after on of the aforementioned meetings-alone. I stuck to my training and avoided drawing attention, as I was growing accustomed to.

Upon reaching the pier he'd indicated earlier, I leaned against a nearby building, unfocused my eyes-I'd learned that this helped detect movement from a book called _Ranger's Apprentice_ years ago, and I used it when I could these days. I moved to walk with Haytham when he passed by.

We strolled throughout the city for some time, neither speaking, neither making a move to stop. We continued until we'd abandoned the shelter of the buildings, reached an area where there was nothing but open land for several dozen meters. Then, he stopped.

He was quiet for a moment, and I didn't dare to talk; Haytham was Haytham: he'd say what he wanted when he needed to. I waited patiently.

"You're… certain?" He questioned vaguely.

"Of?" It was difficult to answer such an unclear question.

A long pause. "The Assassin. Of him being my son. You have no doubts, no second thoughts, no other ideas as to who it could be?"

"The Assassin is your son by Ziio. The only son you had that I am aware of." Another pause that threatened to swallow both of us up.

"...Did I kill him?" He turned, looked me in the eyes, searching for something, anything.

I held his heavy gaze and shook my head, and answered, my voice low. "No. You had more than one chance, and you let him live every time."

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, exhaled just as deeply. "Do you think I could?"

I examined him. Took in the picture of this powerful man who stood here, looking to me for… something. I wasn't sure what he wanted me to say. I said the only thing I could. The truth.

"No."


	26. Chapter 23: Flashbacks

The next day, I was exploring the underground. I'd gotten a lamp from the barkeep at the Green Dragon, who'd given it to me without question-which, in turn, I questioned. He'd said the group I was with was odd enough that he'd learned to keep his head down. Fair enough.

I was nowhere near finished with exploring the tunnels by the time I'd emerged from the darkness, into more darkness. I carried the lantern with me back to the tavern. Nearly as soon as I'd entered, Haytham was on me. He'd been like this before, all set on keeping my safe. It'd been more pronounced since I'd first told him about Connor, strangely enough. Remembering Connor brought some odd thoughts to my mind.

I was around Connor's age, we were both heavily involved with this secret, centuries-long war, we were both out of place in colonial society, we both had goals that weren't necessarily the goals of the side we'd aligned with (when had I started thinking that I was aligned with the Templars?), we were both learning from a disillusioned member of our respective groups that had come to be something of a legal guardian. It made me feel odd to realize we were both so similar, despite the major, glaring differences. I wondered how I would handle any confrontation I might have with him.

I heard the snapping of fingers. "Courtney, pay attention." Haytham said tersely. He sighed. "You need to stop drifting off like that-you know that habits like that can cost you your life in the wrong situation." He ordered me to retrieve my weapons. I followed him outside after grabbing the items and hanging the lamp on my wall. We mounted the horses we'd ridden here over a month ago, and set off outside the city.

"Where are we going?" I asked over the sound of hooves.

"A small settlement outside of the city, I'm meeting a contact there. I'd like you to hide nearby, keep an eye out for any suspicious movement around us. He seemed… less than trustworthy during former meetings, and I don't want to take any risks. If this goes ill, I'd like to have someone nearby to cover me in any conflict that may break out."

It took me a second to reply. "You… want me to kill them?"

"If the situation demands it. I don't know what's awaiting us, but I've been in the area before. It's a prime location to set up an ambush." He wanted me to kill people? I already had, I figured, thinking back to Alfonso. I'd been protecting Shay then, and this wasn't much different. Only it was. I hadn't entirely known Alfonso would die, even if I had expected it, and I hadn't pulled a trigger, shot an arrow, or taken a blade to his throat. In this case, I would be.

"Of course." I said. I'd do it. At the end of the day, I'd killed someone already. Nothing changed that. A few more lives for the sake of the order were nothing. If he'd brought someone else along, these people would die anyways-if they turned out to be baiting Haytham.

We rode on in comfortable silence. At some point I had a realization.

"My birthday's in four days." I said aloud. Haytham looked over at me.

"How old will you be?"

"Seventeen." I took a moment to think about it. I hadn't celebrated my birthdays in years. I'd receive small gifts from relatives, a hundred dollars or so from my grandmother, but we didn't do anything. My commenting on it was more a bland thought echoed by my voice.

Another period of silence, then Haytham broke it.

"Do you miss your home?"

I had to think about the question. Really, I had to consider it. I'd spent months here, and I'd admittedly grown attached to several people. I was used to this. I felt… alive, in a way I hadn't. Back in the 21st century, I'd been forced to stay inside most of the time due to my mother's constant fear of me being abducted, and her strange desire to keep me at home. I put my all into what I could do around the house and what became available when she wasn't home, because I was so afraid it'd be taken away in a flash. My family wasn't always the best. My heart squeezed at the thought, and I felt my mouth go dry as I remembered-as I _relived_ -memories from my childhood.

I was frozen in place by a volatile mix of emotions. I could remember, clear as day, the yelling, shouting, the raw _anger_ that my mother had so often had when I was a child. The fear that I had in response, the desperate need for attention, for love, for care of any kind. The lack of it in my life, the place of kindness stolen by my mother's constant stream of words that I heard like I felt a burn. "Don't play dumb with me", "You know damn well what I mean", "You bitch", "No one is going to like you if you keep acting like you're stupid", "You're an asshole", "When you do that, you look ugly", "Why don't you grow it out? You look awful like that", "You're not special, you're just a fucking brat".

I felt bitterness welling up-at her words, at her inability to teach me things she later punished me for not knowing, at her doting over her damn dog more than she ever had me, at her neglect of my being an actual human being-, and it was soon replaced by a sense of loneliness. The same one that had permeated my childhood. I couldn't focus on what was going on, and I could barely register the fact that it had gotten harder to breathe. Scenes of her beratement of me played out just for me, her words growing harsher, more aggressive, more personal as I aged. I felt a slap on my cheek-from one of her tirades about me not knowing something. It stung, and I had no other choice but to stay still and listen to her ranting.

I was brought back to the present, and found that we'd stopped. Haytham was looking at me with concern, his hand on my shoulder, asking me if I was okay. I nodded and he asked why I was crying. I felt my face with shaky hands, and then wiped the drops away.

"Courtney, what happened?" Haytham asked softly. It was uncharacteristic of him to show worry. I thought about what had just happened. I shook my head frantically, wiping away more tears. I'd gone so long without this happening. Why did it have to happen now, of all the times it could have? He waited for me to respond, his hand never leaving my shoulder. I finally calmed down enough to form a coherent sentence.

"I just… I remembered some things I'd rather forget. We should keep moving." My voice sounded weak.

"Are you sure?" He asked, still maintaining the physical contact. I nodded, and we started to move again. We didn't speak again until we reached the area we'd be meeting our contact.


	27. Chapter 24: Technically Self Defense

"I'll go down there alone. Stay on foot, but don't tie your horse-we may have to make a quick getaway." Haytham explained from atop his horse. He was much higher up than I was, as I had dismounted.

"Won't Antony run off, then?" I asked. He looked confused.

"Antony? Who-" I could practically see the lightbulb above his head. "You named him?"

"He's been around long enough, and calling him 'horse' seemed a bit rude after our relationship blossomed as it did." I said, fondly petting the large creature's long face. Haytham shook his head with a small smile, then he was all business again.

"It's unlikely. He's likely to stay unless startled or stolen." He explained. "If you see anything suspicious, anything at all, take action. If it looks like I'm in danger of any sort, act. If I make this gesture," He raised both of his hands as though he was trying to indicate that he was peaceful. "Take out the man I am conversing with." I nodded to indicate I understood. I readied my bow and crouched down among the trees, creeping closer to the small building where Haytham was riding towards. My eyes were switching between the building and the ground below my feet-our operation would be cut short regardless of anything else if I botched it by snapping a twig underfoot.

A short man in dull clothes stepped out of the building a few minutes later, and another two followed him. Haytham dismounted when he was roughly five meters away. They talked, though I couldn't hear them. I crept ever closer, keeping my eyes wandering around, taking in not just the four men in front of me, but also their surroundings. Minutes passed, and they were still talking. The short man was making wild gestures with his hands, Haytham stood with his hands clasped behind his back-I could tell his temper was getting nearly as short as the man he was currently talking to.

A movement. Not among them, either. I looked to the right, which Haytham's back was faced towards. There-a shadow, moving against those of the trees. I nocked an arrow, bringing the bow slowly up. My heartbeat raced. I waited. The shadow grew closer to the men, to Haytham. I made out the gleam of gun-metal, and the silhouette of a musket.

I drew back the bowstring. My pulse was pounding in my finger-tips, in my ears, in my throat. I swallowed hard. They settled not far from where Haytham stood. I inhaled. They raised the barrel of the musket towards Haytham. I released with an exhale.

Whoever it was, they didn't make a sound as they dropped to the ground. I pushed down the urge to stare in horror, to vomit, to turn away. I forced myself to look over to Haytham once more. Within a few minutes, the three men looked antsy, like something was wrong. Shorty started pacing quickly and making gestures again. I searched the area around them.

I heard a crack to my right. I turned and made eye contact with a man, his coat a reddish-brown, a musket in his hand. I remembered my first day in this time. The split-second choice between water or musket. As I unsheathed my daggers and lunged towards the man, I made a different decision.

I moved too quickly for him to react. He smelled of alcohol and mud. I cut off his words with a slash of a dagger, and looked away as I felt something warm and wet splattered on my hands, a little on my face.

I moved away, not wanting to be near the corpse, and ignored the pulse in my ears that mimicked the one in my heart. When I looked back to the group of men, who were growing more heated in their discussion, I knew that Haytham was growing impatient. I grabbed my bow and removed an arrow from my quiver. Within seconds, his hands went up. I nocked the arrow, drew back, inhaled.

The man let out a cry when the arrow struck him in the upper torso. Haytham moved quickly, running one man through with his sword, while the other floundered for his own. The remaining man was finished in seconds. Haytham stood still afterwords, waiting for reinforcements that didn't come. When he waved and shouted my name, I stumbled out of the brush, and I vomited on the ground. I felt better afterwards.

Haytham crouched near where I was on all fours, shaking. He rubbed my back, and uttered some words of consolation, and some of pride. I'd have never thought it'd fill me with joy to hear someone praise me for killing another person, but it did.

Haytham walked back over and searched the men's bodies while I collected myself. By the time I joined him, he'd found several papers on their bodies. He was reading through them, a pensive look on his face. I waited for him to finish doing so, and ignored the churning of my stomach as best as I could.

"It seems they didn't act alone. It can wait for some time, thankfully. We may have to plan a trip to Lexington after our business in Boston is concluded."

"Anything I should know aside from that?"

He glanced at me. "You mean you aren't aware of what is going on in this case?"

I shook my head. He seemed surprised, so I explained. "The information I found, the majority was in your son's point of view. I'm not aware of all that goes on in the order."

He took a moment to simply stare at me. "Is that so?" He looked away, moving towards his horse. "I suppose we may have to remedy that."

The comment had my attention fixated on him. What was he implying? I asked him once or twice, but he didn't answer.

We rode back in silence, and only returned by morning. Haytham had told me I could have the day to rest and recuperate. I thanked him, and slept through most of the day.


	28. Chapter 25: Happy Birthday

When I woke up on 10 July 1773, I took a moment to say a few thanks to the spirits for having kept me alive this long. I had just finished dressing when I heard a knock on the door.

I had just barely pulled my gloves on when Thomas stepped in, looking as much a fool as ever. "Hey, the boss man said he wanted the two of you to do something together today-around noon I think? Said something about you turning seventeen or some such." He ruffled my hair with a grin. I batted his hands away, which only prompted him to grab hold of me in a tight hug. "Our little girl, growing up so fast! Soon enough, you'll be getting married and leaving us for some lad a hundred miles away!" He mocked the sound of sobbing, and I wrestled myself out of his arms. I huffed and rolled my eyes.

"I'll be sure to visit my favorite drinking partner every so often, Tommy." He grinned. "William would get lonely otherwise." He pouted. I laughed.

I made my way out, Thomas followed behind and loudly insisted that William was no fun at all. I said good morning to Lee and Pitcairn, grabbed an apple and some bread, and left the tavern, shutting the door more firmly than necessary in Thomas' face. I smiled at the sound of him complaining.

My stride was unusually leisurely as I ate and walked through the streets. I didn't have anywhere to be for a solid five and a half hours, and Haytham had been nowhere in sight, so I supposed I was free to do as I willed. Part of me wished he'd asked me to see him earlier, before the sun would be beating down on us mercilessly.

After finishing the light meal, I spent my time wandering the city. I'd come to enjoy spending most of my time on my feet even more than I had in my time; it was preferable to rereading the same old books the innkeeper had to offer. That said, I was still more cautious than Haytham proved to be when it came to climbing up to vantage points. I managed it by reminding myself that he could manage them, and he was heavier than me. I was more agile than him on foot, though he still bested me in swordplay with ease. I wasn't surprised by the latter; he had years of experience on me, and I considered myself lucky to only be in his targets during my training.

The way I thought of Haytham had changed, to say the least. He was regarded by me with immense respect, but also weariness. Reading _Forsaken_ , his journal, had told me how the business with Birch had affected him, and I knew that it was unlikely that he was as stable as he appeared. I'd spoken to him once or twice about Birch, about his journal, and he seemed unnerved by it. Our conversations about his writings served as a chilling reminder that we were both capable of greatly harming the other. Haytham simply due to who he was, and I through my knowledge of him and his life.

Despite that, I'd come to rely on him for many things. I looked to him for basic necessities such as shelter, food, water, and clothing. I looked to him for guidance, training, and knowledge. I disliked being so… dependent on him, but a part of me knew that without someone, I would be lost. This time-this _world_ -was vastly different from my own. I wasn't yet knowledgeable enough about it to strike off on my own.

My thoughts turned to my situation with the Templars. I'd come to think of the ones I knew as allies, a couple as friends. Hell, I'd even come to sympathize with them to a considerable extent. I knew that Connor's actions were going to accomplish nothing he wanted in the end, and through endless conversations, I'd found that most of the Templars did have good intentions. While they did want the colonies to separate, they wanted to avoid full-out war. They wanted to help the Kanien'kehá ka and other native tribes-most of them, anyways: Lee and Church struck me as less than excited about the endeavors to do so, Lee especially.

It left me in the uncomfortable position of trying to figure out how just to negotiate peace between the two groups. Connor and Haytham were both stubborn, reckless. They were hard-headed and had a nasty habit of trying to bulldoze through people when they couldn't talk their way through something. I tended to be similar, and working to get the two of them to coexist peacefully would be difficult, if not nearly impossible. But I would try.

I looked up to the sky, and took out my watch to glance at the time-11:24-at the sight of the sun so high up. I started back to the tavern.

I arrived with minutes to spare, but Haytham was already waiting outside the door. He strode over to me, and I fell into step with him. We walked just past the place we had just over a month ago, when he'd asked if I thought he could kill Connor. We stopped near some weird landmark that looked like an odd cross. We loitered for a short time, making small talk and light-hearted banter over something inane-as we often did these days.

Finally, Haytham got to what he'd brought me out here for. "You said today was your birthday."

I nodded. "My seventeenth, a year more and my time'd consider me a legal adult. I'd be able to do fun things like… buy an apartment, go to college, cry as I drowned in debt from student loans-the same as any aspiring young adult of my time." I had a fake smile on my face the entire time, and made grand gestures with my hands and arms. I certainly didn't miss the idea of debt in my time.

Haytham rolled his eyes at me. "Regardless, I thought it would only be right to get you a gift, as you are my apprentice." I tilted my head at him. A gift? He walked over to the cross-like structure, climbed it, grabbed something, and dropped back down. He dusted himself off and held the box before him with a self-assured smirk on his face. And he thought I was dramatic-I wasn't the one hiding presents for no reason.

I took the box gingerly. It was plain, and it didn't feel particularly heavy. I undid the clasps slowly, glancing back at Haytham a few times. He waited patiently. I lifted the lid.

My eyes widened at the contents. To anyone else, the two objects would simply look like matching gauntlets. But I knew what the mechanisms on the bottom side were: hidden blades. The leather of the gauntlets was a dark, dark brown, worn with time and sculpted to the shape of whoever the last owner was. Small details were burned into the leather-an eagle on each, and small, intricate patterns that acted as borders. I removed my right glove to touch the leather, and found it to be soft, supple. On the inside of it was cloth in the same color as the leather; it felt wonderful on my skin, and my mouth was slightly agape at the sheer absurdity of the situation. The steel of the blades and mechanisms themselves gleamed, freshly polished.

I crouched down and picked one up, holding it like it was a live bomb. I managed to restrain myself from jumping when I made the blade slide out. It was long, thin, but looked sturdy. One finger ran down the edge: razor sharp. A look up at Haytham revealed his smile had widened. I set the object down like it would break if I didn't handle it like glass, put on my glove again, and stood back up with the box in hand.

"But… why…?"

Haytham stepped closer, put a hand on my shoulder. "You've done a great deal for the order. You've given us information that may lead us to a great victory here in the colonies, as well as some that may allow us to retrieve an object of great importance. You saved Shay's life, proved yourself willing to kill at my command, and you've been cooperative at every turn." He paused to let it sink in. His next words seemed to echo. "I would like you to join our order."

I stared at him, my heart beating wildly. Join the Templars? But… My mind was searching for a reason to not do so-I felt like I shouldn't-, but the only one that turned up was the fact that I'd been around less than a year. I said as much.

"Perhaps, but with what you've revealed may happen in the future, I'd like to be certain that we can rely on you." Logical enough. He gave me a smile. "And, you are my apprentice. It wouldn't make sense for you to not be one of us, now would it?"

I looked at the remarkable weapons for a moment.

"But why offer with these? They're the weapons of the Assassins. It seems a bit… backwards."

Haytham chuckled, like the answer was obvious. "Because I had them." He clasped his hands behind his back. "I felt it was only right to give you something for your birthday, and it would be difficult to find something more… unique." He started walking away, I quickly shut the box and followed. "You also clearly know what they are, and-should you accept my offer-, I will train you in their use. The decision is yours to make. I will not hold it against you should you choose not to join us." He stopped to consider something. "So long as you don't side with the Assassins, of course."

He continued walking. I didn't.


	29. Chapter 26: Deliberation

I sat on the roof of a church, watching people pass by. I'd spent the night out, and now I could see the beginnings of daylight peeking over the horizon. I had abandoned the box hours ago, instead choosing to wear them. I fiddled with them as I thought over the choice I'd been given.

I had the ability to join the Templars. Haytham had invited me to join them. In both _III_ and _Rogue_ I'd seen the short induction ceremony. If things hadn't changed, I would be in front of several members of the order, I would vow to devote myself to the Templars, and I would be given a ring. After, I would formally be a member of the colonial rite of Templars.

But would it be worth it? For all the good I thought of the Templars, couldn't they be deceiving me? Telling me what they think I want to hear, just so I would remain loyal to them? It wouldn't be impossible.

I could try to make my way to Davenport Homestead. See if Connor would accept my help, try to guide him to make better choices than he had in-game. But I didn't know the way there, not really, and though I had survival skills-I thanked my father's apparent need to prove himself a good father and Haytham's harsh lessons-, I wasn't sure how long those would keep me alive.

I could just… leave. Haytham had said he wouldn't hold it against me if I chose not to join them. I could go, find a job with the many skills I had, blend in, pretend that none of this had happened.

But I couldn't do that. I knew myself well enough to know that feigning ignorance would leave me dissatisfied. I thought back to less than a week ago, when Haytham had taken me- _me_ -, as opposed to one of his brothers in arms, to provide back-up. I remembered how after I'd ridden myself of my lunch, I'd felt proud of myself, proud that I'd earned Haytham's praise. That was the point of no return, wasn't it? I hadn't made my decision when I agreed to give Shay information all those months ago, nor when I jumped down to the street, my feet headed toward the Green Dragon. I'd made it when that first man dropped dead. When I'd let that first arrow fly. When I'd told Haytham that, if he commanded it, I would kill for him.

As I grew closer to the tavern, I knew what my choice was.

I would become a Templar, and I would live with the consequences.


	30. Chapter 27: Initiation

I informed Haytham of my decision, and I spent that morning and afternoon catching up on rest I hadn't gotten the night before. I was startled when I left my room to run into a familiar face.

"Shay?" I stared at him in disbelief.

He grinned. "Nice to see you're still with us." I stopped myself from hugging him. Thomas was fun to be around, but I still hadn't gotten over the attachment I'd had to Shay as a character. Nor had I forgotten how he was quite possibly the only reason I was alive right now.

"I didn't think you'd be back yet. Did you find it?" I lowered my voice and stepped closer to ask the question.

He nodded. "A banker was hiding it behind a series of locked doors by the time I caught up to it. They didn't stay locked for long, of course."

I was glad to hear it. But one more thing was gnawing at me, regardless of the fact his name hadn't been mentioned. "Is Dorian alive?"

He smiled. "Never saw the man once while I was there." I sighed in relief. The weight taken off my shoulders felt minor compared to what I had agreed to earlier.

"Is it time for di-er, supper yet?" I was still tripping on the "proper" names for meals in this time. A force of habit, I guessed.

"It should be ready in the hour, I get to sit and hear all about what you've done without me, right?"

I deadpanned. "No, you get to sit outside and sweat to death." He snorted.

"I can take my clothes off."

"I can throw sheets on you from the windows."

"I can move."

"I can come out there and fight you." My voice cracked on the last word and Shay's face lit up in amusement while I cringed.

"Alright, then I'll fight you." He mocked me by cracking his voice as well. I punched him in the arm as I walked past him. I heard him laugh quietly.

It was half an hour by the time everyone had sat down. It was dark out, the innkeeper and barkeep had shooed everyone out besides us. Shay sat to my right, Thomas to my left. I filled Shay in on some of what I'd been doing the past months. Thomas jumped in with stories about our drunken adventures, Shay scoffed at the fact that I didn't like beer.

Haytham stood up at the head of the table. All eyes were on him.

"Gentlemen, I believe you can all agree that Courtney," He motioned at me to stand. I did so, and moved over to him. This was it. "has proven herself loyal to us. And, that she is an invaluable ally." My face remained impassive as the others nodded. "Then you would all agree that it would be for the best that she be welcomed as one of us?" They shared glances, took a moment to look me up and down, really take me in. After their silent inspection, they nodded again.

Haytham turned to me, and I to him. I heard chairs on wood, and I knew the others had stood as well. He began to speak, words that I'd heard many times before, but only in two different circumstances.

"Do you swear to uphold the principles of our order and all that for which we stand?"

My voice sounded stronger than I thought it would as I nodded. "I do."

"And never to share our secrets nor divulge the true nature of our work?"

I nodded as I said, "I do."

"And to do so from now until death-whatever the cost?"

I wanted to run, but instead, I held steady and said, "I do."

His hands rested on my shoulders, and I felt even smaller than I already had. He gave me a reassuring smile that wasn't noticeable to the rest. "Then we welcome you into our fold, sister. You will help us shape the world into a better place." His hands moved to take something from inside his coat, and he took my unscarred hand. I didn't look down as I felt him remove the glove and slide the metal band onto my ring finger. "You are now a Templar." I closed my hand.

"May the Father of Understanding guide us." He said.

"May the Father of Understanding guide us." I and the others echoed back.

After I'd pulled my glove on once more and we all sat-Shay and Thomas clapping me on the back and congratulating me, saying something about celebrating with alcohol tomorrow-, conversation started up. We waited for supper, which arrived ten minutes after the ceremony was complete. We discussed plans, but not just for Boston in the upcoming months. The talk among the table was about what was going on throughout the colonies, who potential allies were, who potential enemies were, shipment routes and schedules, the locations of supply caches, safe havens. Shay assisted my endeavor to keep up with his own knowledge. Thomas did as well, but it mostly involved taverns and brothels. I'd get flustered when he mentioned the latter as Shay reached over and pushed at him in my defense. Thomas would only snicker.

After a couple hours had passed and we settled to going about our own individual business, I left the tavern. I needed time to think.

I did the same thing I'd done for more than a month now-I traversed the city. I relished in the familiar feeling of wind on my face, of my feet pounding on the road, of my muscles burning with exertion. I stopped at a pier, having exhausted myself. I dropped down to dangle my legs off the side. I stared into the dark water.

I'd gone through with it. I was a Templar. No longer was I just an ally; I was one of them. A mix of emotions was surging through me: excitement, happiness, fear, anxiety. But the strongest was pride. Pride that I'd made a choice. While unsure what the future held for me, I was sure that I would be able to survive it, if nothing else. A footstep on the boards behind me made my train of thought screech to a halt.

My muscles went rigid and I strained to hear anything I could, acting like my attention was directed solely at the water.

"You can relax, it's me." Shay. I looked up and watched as he sat down beside me. We sat in silence for a few moments.

"I'm glad you did it." He said. I looked at him.

"Glad I did what, exactly?"

"Became one of us." He hesitated to continue. "If you'd sided with the Assassins, it's not unlikely that you'd have been killed by one of us." I nodded. I'd figured as much. It was quiet again.

"Can I ask you something? About… I don't know, morality or some shit like that?" My voice was low, I wasn't very confident about asking this in particular.

"I might not be the best person to ask, but sure."

I took a moment to find the right words. "What if I said… that peace was an option? Between us and the Assassins. That we could resolve this peacefully because our goals aren't that different, because we _can_ work together and I've _seen_ it happen." Shay studied me.

"Peace isn't that simple." He stated.  
"I know, but…" I sighed. "I just, I know all of you guys now, I'm one of you. I trust you guys more than I did my family-not that that's saying much. You're… you're kind of all I have in this time. But at the same time, I know why the Assassin we'll be having trouble with is doing all of this. He's just trying to protect his people, his family that loves him. I mean, he's my age for fuck's sake. In my time, this'd be like pitting _children_ against one another." I paused to collect myself. "It just feels wrong to put so many lives on the line when the option is _there_ to prevent them."

Shay nodded, and a sympathetic tone was in his voice when he spoke. "It isn't right. I'd prefer there be any deaths avoided if possible. But that doesn't mean that it's not what _is_." I looked at him sharply.

"So? We're supposed to be the ones changing that. We're supposed to do things to _make_ what's right a reality." I clenched my fists. I knew he was right, but it filled me with rage to think that people couldn't just _try_ to get along.

He sighed, wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "Listen, if you can find a way to make all of this happen, I'll be behind you every step of the way to doing it. But we can't accomplish this without a plan." He smiled at me. "Besides, if anyone can think of a way, wouldn't it be the girl who knows everything that's going to happen?" I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't keep the smile off my face.

We walked to his ship together, and I felt like that tiny room I'd stayed in months ago and again that night was as much a home as the large one in Haytham's luxurious manor.


	31. Chapter 28: It Begins

Time went on. Haytham, true to his word, began training me to use the hidden blades. It wasn't easy, and by the time November had rolled around, I was no master with them. But I could use them well enough.

Shay went on small trips, often times being gone for several days. When he was around, I tended to gravitate towards him. He started to accompany Thomas and me to the taverns around the city, and I would laugh as he drank Thomas under the table. He'd take me on some of the shorter sails, insisting that I get used to water. I still despised being surrounded by it, but to be in Shay's company was worth the discomfort, and I could pretend I wasn't on a ship for a few hours.

When he wasn't around, I would take care of various tasks for the order. Courier work, mostly, though I was instructed to steal some things a few times. I hadn't yet been ordered to kill again, and I was thankful for that.

On 1 November, we were gathered around the table at Haytham's command. I sat between Shay and Thomas, as had become the norm.

"In less than a week, the Assassin will enter Boston and begin his attempts to ruin our operation." He said, pacing near the stairs. "By 6 November, we will need to be prepared." He looked to William. "Are the tax collectors still willing to go along with the schedules we've set?"

William nodded. "So long as they receive their pay at the time I've set, they'll cooperate."

"Thomas, the smugglers?" Haytham said, turned to the man in question.

"Yeah, they'll head to New York. Told them their pay was there, waiting in a dinky little abandoned house there and everything." He took a swig of beer.

Haytham turned to Pitcairn. "You've managed to arrange for troops to be sent to patrol the areas we discussed?" Pitcairn's only reply was a nod. Haytham turned to Church. "You're certain your contacts will move the smuggled tea to the areas we need?"

"Of course. Else I wouldn't have asked _them_ to do so." Church replied, a hint of irritability in his voice.

Next was Lee. "And you'll be with the troop we talked about?"

"Yes, sir." Was the simple answer.

Haytham looked to Shay. "When we need you, you'll be able to take the tea out to sea?"

Shay nodded. "Whatever happens, the tea will be safe."

It was finally my turn. "You'll keep track of the Assassin?"

I nodded. "I'll intervene when I need to." He nodded. We hadn't discussed the situation of Connor being his son again. I knew that for both our sakes, and the sakes of both the Templar and Assassin orders, I would be doing anything in my power to avoid killing him if I could.

We were dismissed, and I watched as several of the men I'd spent the past months with left the tavern for the last time they would in a while-possibly the last time this year. Pitcairn and Lee were returning to their posts, Church was simply departing to his house-the same place he'd retired to each night the entirety of the time we'd spent in Boston-, Thomas was leaving to oversee the smuggling operations.

Shay, Haytham and I were the only ones left sitting at the table. We sat in silence for some time, drinking coffee and trying not to think about all the things that could go wrong.

I left them to go observe the entrance to the city. He would have to come in through this way, or swim in the cold waters. If he did the latter, he'd risk getting hypothermia, or dying of cold. The former-well, he didn't know I was around, now did he?

The next four days passed quietly. I spent my nights among soldiers, and my days atop stone walls.

It was early on the morning of 5 November when I saw him riding into the city, white of his coat contrasting sharply against the darkness that was still present.

He hadn't seen me when he dismounted, and he didn't see me as I followed him from shadows and crowds.


	32. Chapter 29: Bad First Impression

It wasn't hard to pick him out in a crowd. His white garb and cautious gait set him apart from everyone else. I spent the entire day following him, watching him. Alternating from crowds to rooftops to crowds again was a simple matter for me, now. I knew this city better than he did, I realized, as he took longer routes than necessary. Otherwise he was simply trying to keep people from following-and failing, considering I was still tailing him.

He met with people a couple of times-patriots, I assumed. I made sure to remember everything I could-things he did, people he talked to, what he ate (jerky, some sort of dark bread, and some sort of legume), what routes he took, what areas he stopped at. The list goes on.

He checked into an inn for the night, and I sprinted to the Green Dragon.

When I arrived, Haytham was at the table eating supper. He looked up when I said his name.

"He arrived this morning. He's staying at the inn down by where the _Morrigan_ was docked." I panted out.

"And you kept track of him throughout the day?" I nodded at his question. He closed his eyes, and gestured for me to sit down. He called a waitress up, and ordered a meal for me. He finished his before mine was brought up.

"I'll watch him for the night. Get some rest, and come to that inn in the morning, before dawn if you can." I nodded, and reclined as he left.

I thanked the waitress when she came up, and ate the meal slowly. I had time. It was early when I retired to my room.

It was still dark by the time I woke and quickly dressed in blacks and reds. My gloves were on, ring put on below them-I was attached, I admit. I fiddled with the arrowhead necklace I wore for the briefest of moments. It was one of the few things I still carried with me from my time (the only others being my pocket watch and the steel tunnels lined with rhinestones I wore in my lobe piercings-no one had noticed the small holes through their middles, yet). I sent a silent prayer to the spirits for the safety of everyone-Connor included.

I left the tavern after breakfast, and traveled to the inn. The sun hadn't risen by the time I arrived. A good half hour or so of my morning was spent next to Haytham on top of a roof, out of sight of the general populace. His jaw was set, and he didn't move a muscle. Not until that white hood appeared.

He inhaled sharply. Then, he stared at his son for a long moment. He left having said no words to me.

I followed Connor again. Today was the big day, the day we'd all be working to avoid what I'd forewarned. The only things we had to worry about at the moment were the tax collectors.

We spent the first hour wandering-well, he did. I just followed him. Finally, he started doing what I'd been waiting for. He started to hide in the crowds, moving closer and closer to a man I recognized as one of the tax collectors. I dropped to the streets, and moved closer to him. Minutes felt like hours as I grew closer and closer. Finally, I was within arm's reach of him. I pushed forward, and grabbed at the pistol hanging from his right hip. I heard him growl something in anger as I started to sprint with it in hand. I chanced a look behind me. My idea had worked, and now he was chasing me. My eyes scanned the weapon in my hand-a fine firearm. He had good taste.

He chased me for half an hour-a surprise to me, really. I guessed he liked the gun more than I'd thought. Or he just didn't want to buy a new one. I turned down an alley, ran past backyards separated by fencing. I was climbing up a ladder when a hand caught my calf and tugged me down. My body crashed down on top of him, and I rolled away from him.

My hands were scrabbling to support my weight, to get up off the ground, when I felt him tug me back by my leg. I kicked out with the opposite leg. My foot connected with something, and I heard him grunt in pain. He still didn't let go, and I felt him grab the leg that'd kicked him. I knew I had to get up, get moving. He had far too much brute strength for me to fight him on the ground.

I turned so I could face him, and drew my fist back. He let go of my legs to avoid my punch, and I rolled away again. When I was on my back a few feet away, I jumped up. Two seconds, and he was up with me. We circled each other for several moments.

"What you have is mine." He ground out, clearly more than irritated with me.

"Yet, I'm the one who's holding it." I retorted with a grin. Distract him, keep him occupied. At least until you find a way out. My eyes scanned his body, trying to guess when he'd next lunge at me.

"That does not make it yours! Return it to me, and I will let you leave unharmed." His voice raised. He must really be angry that I'd interrupted.

I acted as though I was considering it, and straightened up a bit, tapping my chin thoughtfully. "Hmmm… so I give this to you, and I get nothing in return?"

He growled again. "You get to keep your life!"

"Right, so, nothing I don't already have." He opened his mouth to speak again, but I held a finger to my lips with a sly smile. He looked at me, his face twisted in an expression that spoke of outrage. There's my opportunity.

I drawled out, "I have to admit, sweetheart, this offer of yours is once in a lifetime- you're too generous!" He moved closer, and I called my next words over my shoulder as I turned and ran. "I couldn't possibly take advantage of you like that!"

He yelled something as we returned to the chase, though I couldn't tell what it was exactly. I had to admit, ignoring the fact that he may very well kill me, this was kind of fun.

He was shaken off my trail when I disappeared into the underground. I knew it better than he, to the extent that I could traverse the darkness in some areas without a lamp. He wasn't so lucky. Emerging from the tunnels half an hour later, I took the the roofs.

The major problem I had now was that I had no idea where _he_ was. It was possible that he could emerge at any moment, from any entrance. I swore under my breath.

The wooden doors to the underground swinging open stopped me before I started to descend to the ground. I willed myself to turn invisible as he came out, looking around frantically. I pressed myself closer to the roof I was hiding on. Finally, he gave up and walked away. I followed.

After several hours of him searching for the collectors, tea shipments, and smugglers-to no avail-, night fell. My stomach was howling by the time he'd returned to his inn, and more so by the time I entered the Green Dragon.

Haytham informed me that he would be absent for approximately three weeks due to a problem up North, and gave me orders me to tail Connor by any means. He gave me several paper bills-saying I should use the money for whatever I needed along the way-, a map, and a list full of contacts I could trust. I slipped them all into an inside pocket of my coat. He said he would return to the tavern when his business was done, and I bid him farewell as he rushed out. I was left fully on my own for the first time since I'd been sent to this time over a year ago.

Loneliness wasn't creeping up on me as I had thought it would. Truthfully, I was looking forward to the future. Today had been… exciting. The chase had been more thrilling than any of the courier missions or "item procurement runs" (a more polite way to say "stealing") I'd done in the past few months. I wondered how I was going to handle this, but focused on eating and getting ready for sleep instead.

I just hoped Connor wouldn't be _too_ mad if we met face-to-face again. I'd made a pretty bad first impression, after all.


	33. Chapter 30: Better Second Impression

I was lucky to wake up early. I dressed in greys and wolfed down my breakfast, thanking the serving girl (who I learned was missing the attention Thomas often showered on her) for the meal. I departed with my bag, grabbed Antony, stopped to buy two days worth of rations, and dropped my things off at the stone walls guarding the city. Persuading a soldier I'd befriended over my four days at the stone walls to watch over Antony-and my stuff-until I needed him was hardly a challenge. I hurried to and waited outside of the inn, engaging in casual conversation with a small group of people-it centered around the taxes on tea, unsurprisingly.

Connor emerged from the inn, and made his way to the fortifications around the entrance of Boston. I followed him from the rooftops, being sure to put a bit more distance between us when he ascended as well.

He took a horse and mounted, riding off at a trot. I waited until he was out of ear-shot, then went to get Antony. I grabbed my things and set off after the white figure now a good distance from me.

I followed him like that for some time. When he stopped to camp in the woods for a night, I set up camp over the next ridge. I say "camp" when really it was more me huddled inside the thick sleeping bag I'd barely looked at since June. The night was bitter cold, but sleep found me nonetheless.

A blade to my neck and a voice in my ear were my rude awakening halfway through the night. "Why have you been following me?"

Connor had found me, and he apparently recognized me. I looked at him, fear of dying helping me shake off sleep faster than I would have otherwise. I opened my mouth, and found I had to think quickly. "I wanted to apologize. And return the thing I stole." My words were strained from fear of having my throat slit. He narrowed his eyes at me, but let me get up. I moved to my bag and pulled out the pistol, handing it to him with a muttered apology. He took it from me, inspecting it closely.

"You are forgiven." He said. I smiled at him weakly. _Thank the spirits._ When he turned and started to walk off, back the way he'd set up camp, I rushed after him: I'd seen an opportunity.

"Hey! Um, where are you going?" I asked, walking backwards beside him, trying to keep his eyes on me.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Why do you ask? Are you looking for work, or intending to steal from others?" I gave a sheepish chuckle.

"Yeah, well, I was in a tough spot. You can understand that, right?" I said. His only reply was a grunt. I kept talking. "Okay, I am looking for work. But, well, it's kinda hard for me to find any. Not being a man and all but having the skills that I do puts me in this odd little niche." He was looking at me, and I took that as a good sign. "And, well, a man like yourself-y'know, traveling around with a bunch of weapons, wearing some awfully unique clothing-I figured a guy like you might have work for a person like me."

"What, exactly, do you believe it is that I do?" He questioned suspiciously.

"Probably something that could make use of someone who, like me, has information and skills with weap-" I was cut off mid-sentence when I smacked into a tree. Connor stopped and looked at me in alarm. What a lovely second impression.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good, I'm fine, everything's great." I answered, rubbing my back gingerly.

"What did you mean by information?" He asked. Thankfulness at him not dwelling on my embarrassing little incident washed over me.

I shrugged. "Well, I noticed you talking to some guys who looked awfully involved with these days' politics and talk of revolution, and-" He turned to face me fully.

"You were following me?" I detected a hint of anger in his tone.

I decided to go with the situation. "I stole from you, and you think I wasn't following you for a while? Come on. Only amateurs steal without seeing what they're getting into first." I flashed him a smile.

He seemed to accept my answer and waited for me to continue talking. "Those guys are nice and all, but they don't really have information on what they're getting into, I think."

"Then why not bring your offer of information to them?" His arms crossed.

I grabbed at strings for an answer-he likely wouldn't react well to me saying I was a Templar-, and blurted out the first one I could think of. "You're cuter than they are." _Brilliant_. At least my voice was steady.

He flushed a bit and cleared his throat. "I- thank you." He paused. "What kind of information can you offer?"

"The kind that's best offered on a day-by-day basis." I said.

"What are you suggesting?"

"That we travel together. I don't have anywhere to be, hate staying in one place too long, and if you give me things like food and shelter, we'll get along fine." I said animatedly, making gestures with my hands.

"My work is dangerous." He was trying to find a good reason not to bring me along.

"My life isn't exactly safe as is." I replied.

Moments of silence passed, and then he nodded. "Fine. But if you try to steal from me again-"

I interrupted him. "You have my word, if something of yours goes missing, I'll be the first to volunteer to help you find it." He begrudgingly agreed, and waited while I collected my things and Antony.

I hoped keeping the truth from him for now wouldn't come back to haunt me.


	34. Chapter 31: Davenport Manor

The next day passed mostly with Connor and I traveling. He revealed he was going to the Homestead to oversee the activities there. I asked him a great many questions, to which he often gave short answers. He wasn't very talkative. I'd fall back on complimenting and flirting with him when he asked questions I wasn't sure he'd like the answer of. They weren't exactly lies-he was fairly attractive-, just a bit avoidant.

When we arrived, I was hiding my jittery nerves. I knew so much about the place, the people. I was excited to see who was there. I knew that Godfrey, Terrance, Catherine, and Diana had to be there. I was fairly certain Myriam and Norris would be as well. As we passed trees, I was barely containing my joy at seeing the area. We stopped at the manor and left our horses at the stable. I patted Antony's snout comfortingly. He pawed at the ground and whinnied as I followed Connor into the manor.

"We do not have a free bed. If you intend to stay in this house, you will have to sleep on a couch." He said apologetically.

"Oh, it's no problem. I've slept in worse places." I said cheerfully. _Yeah, like the forest floor while half-dead of dehydration_.

"Old man!" He shouted. I was startled by the sudden loudness of his voice. I heard odd footsteps upstairs. Achilles appeared, already complaining at Connor.

"What is it this time, boy?" He stopped when he saw me. "And who is this?"

"Her name is…" He seemed to realize just then that I hadn't given him my name.

I stepped closer to Achilles and held out my hand with a smile. "Courtney. I'm traveling with him." He raised an eyebrow at Connor, but didn't shake my hand.

"And just where did you pick her up?" He asked, looking me up and down. My hand had dropped to my side awkwardly, and I felt a bit intimidated by Achilles' scrutinizing gaze.

"She stole my pistol, then offered to give me information." Connor replied. They moved into the dining room. I followed, marveling at the place I'd seen so many times before-but real, this time. I hoped they just thought I was used to living on the streets.

Achilles scoffed. "You catch a thief, and the moment she offers information, you trust her? Did you even try to find out what she knows?"

"She said she knew something about the business Sam Adams and his allies are interested in. I thought it may be of use to me, as well." Connor replied, a hint of irritation in his voice.

"So I assume your business in Boston is finished?" Achilles asked as he sat.

"No. They must have gotten wind of what was to happen. Nothing went as it was supposed to." Connor paused. "And, being stolen from interfered with what I was doing." He cast a mild glare at me. I smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry." I murmured.

"Then what do you intend to do now?" Achilles asked.

Connor sighed. "I need to find out what was done with the smuggled tea. Then perhaps I can put an end to our enemies' plans." A twinge of guilt tugged at me. At this point, I was one of those enemies.

Achilles shook his head. "Of course. And I suppose you have a plan to accomplish that?"

Connor's reply was indignant. "Yes. I came here to rest up before looking for the information I seek."

Their conversation continued, but I was more entranced by the house around me. It was hard not to be, considering it brought forth so many memories of playing the games. How many cutscenes had taken place here? Quite a few, I thought.

We ate supper together; the conversation was mostly held by Achilles and me, while Connor only chimed in every so often. Most of the talk was merely polite and geared towards getting more comfortable with each other. All was going well, until Achilles asked one question I hadn't expected.

"Why have you got your gloves on still?" It was innocent enough. It was cold out, so Connor hadn't asked. But we were indoors now, and a fire burned in the fireplace near the table. I swallowed the mouthful of food I was chewing.

I looked down at my hands. Under the left, were the burns. Under the right, the ring that marked me as a Templar. I considered it. Taking off the right was out of the question, for now. If I took the left one off, I could open up a channel of information about the pieces of Eden. I wasn't sure if Connor knew much about them, but I knew for a fact that Achilles did. I made my decision.

I put on another smile as I pulled my left glove off. "I have some burns from a rather… unique incident last year." I held my palm out for Achilles to look at. His eyes widened at the sight of the pink lines.

"What happened?" He asked, not looking away from my hand as I covered it back up.

"I'm not sure most people would believe me if I told the story." I was telling the truth. Connor was sitting up now, paying attention again.

"We'll humor you." Achilles said.

I looked down and took a second to lay the words out in my head, then looked back up. "I picked up a Piece of Eden and it sent me back in time from the 21st century." They both stared at me for a moment, as though they couldn't believe what I'd just said.

Achilles' brow furrowed. "If you're trying to play a trick on us-"

One of my eyebrows raised. "Would I really go to the trouble of burning my hands to play a prank?"

"You're… from the future?" Achilles asked incredulously.

"Yes. The year 2015, specifically."

"How do you know it was a Piece of Eden?" Connor asked.

"Because I know about the Assassins and the Templars." I responded. This made them both tense up more than they were. There was a moment of silence. I took a sip of water.

"What do you know?" Connor asked, a hard edge to his voice.

"Just about everything that will happen in the next decade. Sort of." I shrugged like it wasn't a big deal.

Connor stood up quickly. "Why did you lie to me earlier?" He demanded.

I put my hands up. "Sit down! Damn, do you really think you would have believed me if I just walked up to you and said I was from the future?'"

He was quiet for a moment, then returned to his chair. He was still staring hard at me from across the table.

"You said you've been here for over a year, how did you survive?" Achilles asked.

"I was saved from dehydration and cared for by a few people, and they arranged for me to be taught the basics of life in this time. I guess they took pity on how helpless I seemed." I answered. I wasn't lying. The Templar order had given me much more than I could have asked for, and I was grateful. Although, that was the biggest issue here, wasn't it?

There was a silent moment, with us trying to decide what to do about the situation. Connor broke it. "And what do you intend to do with this information?"

"I'd like to keep a good number of people from dying. That includes your people, Connor." I said.

He looked uncomfortable. "Why?"

"Because, if you keep heading down the path you're on right now, it's just going to end in disappointment and death. There are a lot of things going on that neither of you are aware of, a lot of options that could prevent a lot of casualties." I felt my heartbeat pounding. I needed him to believe me. I needed him to trust me and believe that I wanted the best. Because I did, I wanted to help people, I always had. My being a Templar didn't change that, even if it _did_ complicate matters.

Connor and I were engaged in a stare-down for some time. Achilles glanced between us, as tense as we were. Connor looked like he wanted to say something, but was just barely biting it back.

"How do I know you are to be trusted?" _You don't_. I held my tongue, he needed an answer. A real answer.

"Because I could have tried to kill or harm you already. I could have told the Templars where you were, how they could take you out, what to do that would keep you," I nodded to Achilles. "From training anyone else." I said monotone. Then, something I hadn't expected happened.

Connor's eyes seemed to turn… gold. He stared at me intently for several seconds, brow furrowing more by the second. His eyes flickered back to dark brown. Eagle vision. Connor searched my eyes for several seconds more, then nodded.

"Fine. I accept your offer of help." _Spirits, thank you_. I smiled as I relaxed. I must not be marked as red, then.

"How can a Piece of Eden do something like this?" Connor asked.

I shrugged. "Some were apparently known to change the passage of time…" I thought back to those that had been featured in games. "If some can drive people to insanity, hold information, control people's minds, heal wounds, teleport people, and even raise the dead… I guess time travel really isn't that far-fetched."

"I suppose not…" Achilles said quietly. We lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

"Good, so that's over with. I think we could all use a little sleep, and then we can go over the specifics tomorrow, yes?" I said. I was tired from travel and pressure.

"I think that would be for the best." Achilles stated. I assisted the two of them in cleaning the dinnerware we'd used, earning a small,slightly begrudged "Thank you." from Connor. He escorted me up to the room I'd be using while I was here. I bid him goodnight, and flopped on a couch after he'd left for his own room. I curled up on the couch, warm enough with the insulation of the house and of my own clothes.

I evaded dwelling on the situation I'd put myself in until I awoke the next day.


	35. Chapter 32: Lying Bites

When I woke-early though it was, the stars were still out and the sun hadn't made an appearance-, Connor was already up. I greeted him warmly, and he responded with a mere nod. I guessed that was the best I'd get for a while. I could live with it.

We milled about; I read a book I'd taken off a shelf upstairs, and Connor handled some of the finances of the homestead. After becoming bored with the protagonist-who simply kept botching everything he did and was never penalized for it-I put down the book and crept into the room where he scribbled in the large book.

"So… do you handle all of the goings-on, or does Achilles take care of them, too?" I questioned.

Connor didn't look up to answer, though it was clear he was still weary of me from the sound of his voice and the way his muscles had ever so slightly tensed when I'd walked in. Fair enough. He didn't know me very well, after all. "Achilles tends to the transactions made with stores outside of the homestead when I am absent." I peered at the book.

"You have beautiful handwriting. I can barely write legibly with quills." I marveled at how easily he wrote with the oversized feather. His lines were all even, the strokes graceful and unrushed. A stark difference from my blots of ink and wildly inconsistent pressure. Ettiene's lessons had done little to help me transition from pen to quill.

"Thank you." He said absentmindedly. I watched him write for a while, amazed at how easy he made it look-then again, he'd had much more experience with quills than I had, hadn't he? He didn't say anything about my presence, so I assumed he didn't entirely mind my being there. We both looked up when Achilles stopped in front of the doorway.

"Are you two going to stand there gawking at me, or help me make breakfast?" He asked.

Both Connor and I trailed behind the frail old man as he walked to the kitchen. The meal wasn't dissimilar to that which I'd eaten at the inn. It didn't take long to finish cooking it all, to the betterment of everyone's mood.

We all sat down to eat, and Achilles was, once again, the one to initiate conversation.

"You say that you have information. Why don't you start with what is going to happen soonest?" His voice, despite its thinness, held a commanding note. He wanted to let me know who was in charge here, I guessed.

I swallowed a mouthful of bread and meat before I talked, looking at Connor. "There will be business in Boston, starting with the murder of the man in charge of tax collector by Stephane Chapheu-you'll help him. Later, you will be tasked with assisting the Sons of Liberty with dumping a great deal worth of tea into Boston's harbor."

"What would you have me do instead?" Connor asked.

I thought for a moment. If I could get this situation to play out perfectly, then it's possible the beginnings of an alliance could be set before I'd expected. If I returned to Boston before 3 December, it's possible I could have it arranged for William to sacrifice the man. I felt bad for thinking it, but I did want Stephane on the Assassin's side-if peace between the Templars and Assassins was possible, of course. He could be a valuable ally. I decided I would check in at the Green Dragon after the time Haytham'd said he'd return. Three weeks after 6 November was… 27 November. We'd have at least six days to prepare everything, with any luck. And I could easily change my plans if it turned out that the two sides simply couldn't operate together.

"Assist Stephane when he goes after the collector. encourage him to join the Assassins, but try not to make him hate the Templars in the process." Both of them seemed confused by the last clause.

"The Templars are our enemies. Why would we not encourage a recruit to not trust them?" Connor asked.

"Because with any luck, we'll be able to resolve this entire secret war peacefully. And I know the ideas sounds awful to you both, but you have to trust me when I say fighting now is just going to bite everyone in the ass later." I paused. "They've done wrong things in the past, but so have the Assassins." I looked to Achilles pointedly. He narrowed his eyes.

"They seek to buy my people's land for their own use. They want nothing more than the subjugation of those who are not one of them, and the power that entails." Connor replied heatedly.

"And have you even tried to find out what exactly they intend to do with it after buying it? Or have you just listened to the colonists and him?" I gestured to Achilles. "Both have bias against the Templars, whether the former realizes it or not."

Connor still wasn't entirely convinced, but he asked a different question. "Assuming their goals are not as wicked as they have been made out to be, how do you know they would accept any offers of peace with us?"

"Trust me, I have a plan. Even if it doesn't make sense now." I said.

"If you do not trust me to know what plan you have in mind, then we have no reason to work together." Connor said.

"Your father is a Templar. If his journal was anything to go by, he doesn't want to see you die, regardless of your allegiance. You two have the ability to make peace between the Assassins and Templars-you just need to actually work towards it." I replied. I hated being so vague about details, but I still wasn't sure he'd react well to me saying that I was a Templar.

It looked like Connor wanted to say something, but it was Achilles who spoke instead. "And why should we trust Haytham? The man's about as cruel and cold as a person can get, and there's no guarantee that he wouldn't kill Connor, even if he is his son."

I felt myself getting a bit defensive. I'd grown to respect and like Haytham, and hearing Achilles speaking about him like he was just a cold-hearted bastard got my blood hot. "Haytham is both of those things, but he's not a monster like you _clearly_ think. Then again, the last time you two saw each other, circumstances weren't exactly friendly."

My little comment made Achilles' voice raise. "And what would you know about the last time I saw Haytham?"

"Plenty." My mouth kept running despite my head screaming at me to stop. "I don't suppose you've told Connor about the business with the manuscript and the box, have you? Because that'd make the Assassins look just _awful_." I sneered. I hadn't realized I'd get so heated about this, but I had. Connor looked between us, confused.

"What does she mean?" He asked. Achilles didn't meet his eyes, and instead stood, leaving the room.

"Since she seems to know all about it, why don't you ask her?" He spat. I felt a little bad, but I didn't let it show. My little burst of spitefulness would probably have repercussions later on. Connor was looking at me, brow furrowed and mouth moving. He'd asked something, but I hadn't heard.

I gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, could you repeat that?"

"What happened?" He repeated.

I sighed. I guess Achilles really hadn't told him. I felt a pang of guilt. So many people kept things from Connor in his life: Achilles, Haytham, Samuel Adams, Washington, Juno. And now me. Hopefully I could remedy that-later, when I was sure he wouldn't try to kill me upon being told everything. I got up, and jerked my head towards the door. Maybe the cold would clear my head.


	36. Chapter 33: Story Time

We moved to an isolated location, using primarily the trees due to the fresh snow that had piled up over night. He moved much more elegantly from branch to branch than I did. It looked so natural for him, and the years of practice I knew he'd had were shining through.

When we dropped to the forest floor, in an area far from the roads or any people, I paced.

"So, Achilles told you nothing of what happened to make the Brotherhood in the colonies so weak?" I asked.

Connor shook his head, eyes following me. "No. What happened?"

I sighed and ran my gloved hands down my face. "It all started with two artifacts, a manuscript and a box. They were left by Those Who Came Before. They were once used by the Assassins in Haiti in the year 1751 to discover the location of a temple near Port-Au-Prince. When they attempted to take the artifact of Eden hidden there, it triggered a catastrophic earthquake that resulted in… well, a lot of people died in that and the massive sea wave that followed it.

"The Assassins that were sent there were killed by a Templar, who then took the artifacts. The Assassin-ex-Assassin, now-Shay Cormac recovered them at the behest of Achilles between 1752 and 1754. They were then used to discover another location-Lisbon. Achilles sent Shay to investigate the temple there." I stopped. Connor was staring at me, not moving a single muscle. I continued.

"The same thing happened, and Achilles refused to believe Shay and wanted to continue using the artifacts by the time the latter returned. Shay stole the manuscript and defected after a chase through this same homestead." I gestured all around us. "He was injured in the process, and fell to the water in the harbor." It felt strange, telling Connor of what had happened here years ago.

"He was rescued by the Templars, and later assisted them in wiping out the Assassin Brotherhood here in the colonies, as they still were trying to mess with the temples-one more was destroyed in Antarctica during a skirmish between the Achilles and Liam O'Brien-the last high-ranked colonial Assassins left alive-and Shay and Haytham. Achilles was only spared because Shay stopped Haytham from killing him." I paused. "He still shot him in the knee, though."

Connor was dead silent, processing all that I had told him. Then, "Why did he not tell me about this?"

I shrugged, keeping any snide remarks to myself. "I guess he didn't want you to think ill of him or the Brotherhood."

"Why are _you_ telling me this?" His voice was quiet, but his fists were clenching.

"Because you, of everyone, need to know that neither the Assassins nor Templars are all good or bad. There's a war coming, and the only way that things will end well is if both sides learn to work together." I said, much more quietly than usual. I hoped my voice carried the weight I needed it to.

Connor let out a growl, and I was reminded that his temper could be as short as his father's, at times. "The man I have listened to for the past four years- he was responsible for the destruction of… He kept that from me, so I would listen to him? And now, you-someone who has no business even being in this _time_ -, you are telling me about this?" He was positively livid. I stayed where I was; I wasn't sure he'd react well to my attempts to comfort him, seeing as we were both strangers, still.

"What's happened can't be changed. But we can try to move past it." I paused to gauge his reaction. He was still angry, but he was listening. "In the timeline I came from, you carried out a purge of Templars not unlike Shay's purge of the Assassins. We don't need that. What we need is for you and your father to try to work together. For everyone's sake. For your people's sake." That was why he was in this, right? He'd become an Assassin because Juno had told him the Assassins would help him protect his people. He was quiet for several minutes. His breathing was deep, shaking. He calmed down slightly, and gave me an answer that was better than no, but not quite what I was hoping for.

"I will consider what you have told me."

* * *

I spent the rest of the day avoiding glares from Achilles and reading in the warm confines of his manor. Connor was gone the entire time, and hadn't returned by dark. I offered to help Achilles prepare supper, and though we were far from being friends, he accepted my offer. The only words we spoke after that were brief requests for something to be passed. Beyond that, he gave me the cold shoulder. I couldn't very well blame him; I'd brought up quite possibly his biggest failure, and used it to make his enemies look better-or at least on the same level as his own side.

Trudging up the stairs later that night, I felt drained.

* * *

I grabbed a folded, mostly decorative cover from another couch, and wrapped myself in it as I tried to go to sleep. I watched delicate little spots of white drift down to the ground through the window for a couple hours, barely able to see them by the light of the moon.

My rest that night wasn't as sound as I'd have liked it to be. Memories of my life before arriving in the colonies plagued me. Words from my mother, abstract amalgamations of the hundred different types of pressure that had been pressed on me throughout a childhood spent alone and depressed. I'd only experienced the nightmares when I was stressed over last few months, but they were the same ones I'd had before I'd come here.

I finally gave up on sleep. It was too early an hour for me to be moving about the house, and instead, I simply sat alone with my thoughts.

It was for that reason that I heard the creaking of the front door when Connor returned.

I heard him walk up the stairs, and he forewent his room in favor of the one I was staying in. I looked at him, and he looked at me.

We didn't say any words for a long moment. Then, he spoke six simple words in his usual, monotone voice.

"I will do as you ask."


	37. Chapter 34: Self-Blame and Booze

Two days passed, and I couldn't help but feel guilty for the apparent rift driven between Connor and Achilles with the information I'd given Connor. I was praying that the relationship between them would heal with time, though I couldn't be certain. I kept my distance from Achilles. He was clearly angry at me for bringing up what I had, no matter how little time I spent around him. My guilt kept me feeling awful about it, while my pride kept me from apologizing. Part of me felt like an impudent child.

Connor told me the third morning to pack my things, as we were heading back to Boston. I did so without question, and I said a quiet goodbye to Achilles. I may have imagined it, but I could have sworn he wished us good luck as the door shut behind me.

We mounted our horses-Antony looked delighted to see me, and I got a small kick out of that-and with heavy packs and heavy hearts, we began the two day trip to Boston. It was cold out, and nights were bitterly so. Connor wasn't fond of talking, but he listened to me tell stories about my time, sometimes asking a question about things he didn't quite understand. I was just happy to have a good audience. Despite this, we didn't talk about the Templars or the Assassins. I woke up both days covered in snow, and irritatedly had to brush it off my heavy sleeping bag.

When we did arrive in Boston, it was 13 November. We had a less than a month to prepare for the murder of our sacrificial lamb, and I had to get word to William or Haytham to allow it to happen. I reminded myself to check in at the Green Dragon later.

Connor and I stayed at the Inn he had picked last time-the time I'd stalked him. I inwardly cringed at the thought. When I put it that way, it sounded like a bad thing. I told Connor several hours into our first day there that I was going to a tavern I liked. He merely nodded and went back to whatever it was he'd been doing. It involved a knife, a piece of wood, and some bits of metal. I decided I didn't really want to know at the moment.

I walked into the tavern after a brief stroll in the bitter cold. I waved at the barkeep and ascended the stairs. I ordered and downed some of the beer I'd so hated just months ago, and waited.

I took out the page filled with names that Haytham had given me. Some were listed simply as trustworthy, while others were listed as members of the order. All were marked with what they could provide for me; shelter, supplies, information. My eyes fell on one: Abraham Crawley, Boston resident, brewer, and Templar. Apparently he had ways of getting messages to other members. I'd have to see about contacting him soon. As it was, I sipped on the drink in front of me and tucked the paper back into my pocket.

No one appeared after a few hours-and several mugs of alcohol-, and I left my payment on the counter before I headed back to the inn where Connor was. I was just a tad (a lot) more than a bit tipsy, and I was giggling by the time I'd reached the inn. I hadn't the faintest idea as to what was so funny, though, and I was just laughing for the sake of laughing at that point.

I bumped into Connor, who tensed at the contact and I apologized, still very much a mess of chuckles. He looked at me oddly.

"Are you well?"

I grinned at him. "Of course! I just had like… um…" I counted the number of drinks I'd had, restarting three times before giving up. "Well, I drank a little, and that's really it. I'm fine!"

"You do not look fine. Perhaps you should get to your room." He reached out for my arm, gently guiding me towards the door of the room I'd paid for.

I pouted at him. "That's no fun, though."

"You need rest." He replied.

"You should go drinking with me sometime! I can get my two buddies and we'd have a grand old time!" My words slurred with excitement and alcohol.

"I do not often drink." He opened the door, and pushed me towards the bed. I fell on it, which made me laugh harder. "Now, please, get some rest. If you are not awake by supper, I will come get you." He closed the door behind him after I called an uneven "bye-bye" after him.

I slept for a few hours, and, true to his word, Connor woke me when supper had been ordered. I grouchily batted him away at first, though he managed to get me out of bed with some gentle persuasion. I was on the thin line between drunk and hungover.

I scarfed down most of my food, hoping to avoid the worst effects of a hangover. There was no conversation between Connor or I that night, and the only other words between us were "Goodnight." as we retired until morning. I set about writing two letters that night, and finished them long before midnight came around.

I folded them, sealed them in envelopes, labeled them, and tucked them in a drawer, just in case Connor woke before I did and happened to come in. I changed into my chemise, and went to sleep, hoping Abraham Crawley wouldn't be hard to find.


	38. Chapter 35: The Jig's Up

The next day, I was out early. I'd stuffed the enveloped letters in my coat, told Connor I'd be back later, and begun searching for Abraham Crawley. It wasn't terribly difficult. I went to one of the taverns I'd frequented for several months, and the bartender pointed me towards a building on the outskirts of the city.

It didn't take long to get there. It was nicely kept, for the neighborhood it was in, and of a decent size. A few horses pawed at the ground, tied to fencing near a wagon. A sign hung above the door, but all that weather and time had left on it was some color. My weight shifted from foot to foot when I knocked.

A man large by any and all standards opened the door. He had a goatee and bushy mustache, obscuring his chin and mouth from view. His voice was surprisingly smooth and pleasant. "Can I help you?"

"Are you Abraham Crawley?" I asked.

"The one and only." He said with a hint of pride.

"Then yes." I removed my right glove and stuck out that hand. His eyes settled on the ring I wore. "A friend mentioned you."

He nodded and moved back, making way for me to come in. The scent of alcohol seemed to emanate from every part of the room. The door shut behind me while I pulled my glove back on.

"What do you need?" His arms folded.

"I need these letters sent to William Johnson and Haytham Kenway, respectively. Some things have popped up with the Assassin I was charged with keeping an eye on, and they'll both want to know about it." I pulled the papers from my coat, handing them to him. His eyes skimmed over the names written on the envelopes, and he nodded.

"Any specific time you need them sent by?" He asked.

"While Kenway should be back in the next two weeks to give me an answer in person, I'll need a reply from Johnson as soon as possible. By 2 December at the very least." I replied.

He nodded. "That all you'll be needing?"

"For now." I walked back to the door. He followed.

"May the Father of Understanding guide you." He said lowly, fist held over his heart. I copied the action, and walked out, making my way back to the inn.

I was in an alleyway when the sound of movement made me stop. I turned, but not nearly soon enough.

My back hit the wall, and I was dazed as I was pressed up against the wooden boards. A blade was held to my neck, and my hands were pinned above my head. My attacker was so close that I couldn't kick them away. My blood ran cold when I saw his face.

Connor had followed me, and had overheard at least some of the conversation, evidently. He was certainly not pleased.

My neck was twisted at an odd angle so that I could both look up at him and avoid pressing my throat into the sharp edge of the blade-which I now recognized as one of his hidden blades. My legs were situated so that one was holding most of my weight, and I felt a cramp forming in the junction between my thigh and my hip. I paid it little mind as Connor ground words out.

"How long? How long have you been working with them? Is everything you have told me been a lie?"

"Ever since I got here, okay! And I haven't lied to you, not once, alright? I know this is shocking but-" I was interrupted.

"Shocking? You are a Templar! The only reason I have not killed you yet is because of the information you may possess." I was flexing my fingers. I knew that I couldn't get my way out of this situation physically. Connor was stronger, and he had me in a position where I couldn't use any of my tricks to wriggle my way free. I had to use my words and hope they would work.

"I get that you're angry that I didn't tell you, but please, believe me, I was scared. I wasn't sure how you'd react- I- I just want to help!" My voice was quivering. I scolded myself. _How pathetic_.

"Help? How? By leading me astray? How do I know that you are not here to cause exactly what you say you fear?" I felt the blade press against my throat more firmly. I felt the slightest bit of pain, and drops of blood slowly slid down my neck.

"I don't know. I don't know how to prove that I'm trying to help, I really don't. I just- so many people are going to die if you do the things that I remember. And that doesn't need to happen. I want to help you and them. _Please_." My voice was barely a whisper. My eyes were locked with his. Mine were pleading, desperate, and his were dark and angry.

Seconds passed like days. His eyes did that flickering thing, turned to gold again. I swallowed hard as his eyes narrowed. At least a minute had to have passed, his eyes staring hard at me. Finally, he backed away. I slid down the wall, clutching at my throat.

"You swear that you are telling the truth?" He questioned, voice low.

"If I ever lie to you, you have full permission to kill me." I answered, looking at the blood that barely appeared on the black gloves. He nodded, more to himself than anything, and held out a hand. I stared at it for just a moment. I grabbed it, muttering an apology for the blood under my breath. He pulled me up with little effort and steadied me. My legs were shaking badly, and I kept a hand on my throat, trying to avoid it getting on my clothing. He led me back to the inn. Thanks to the dark of the night, no one seemed to notice the blood on my neck and my hands. He'd shielded me from prying eyes when we entered the inn, maneuvering us so that the upper half of my body was hidden from the innkeep.

The next half hour was spent with Connor tending to the small but noticeable cut. He didn't meet my eyes as his hands moved gently to clean and bandage it, and I willed down the need to talk until after he finished. When he scooted back and told me he'd finished, I examined the red stains on my clothes, wondering whether or not hydrogen peroxide had been invented yet. My eyes looked back up to Connor.

"Hey." I said to Connor. He looked at me warily. "Sorry. I should have told you sooner."

He nodded. "And I am sorry for attacking you."

I scoffed. "Hey, you bandaged it afterwards, and it's tiny. No harm done." I smiled at him.

He nodded absentmindedly. "When will we go to them?"

"The other Templars?" He nodded in response. I thought about the question. "I'm not sure. I was seeing that guy in there to get messages to a couple of them."

"Who?"

"Haytham and William." I answered. We sat in silence for a moment. I let out a deep, overly exaggerated breath when I stood. "Well, now that that's done, I'm hungry. What do you say we go get something to eat?" His only answer was a nod, and he abandoned the room in favor of the tables outside of it. After changing into unbloodied clothes, I followed him.

Supper wasn't as awkward as it could have been-in no small part due to my babbling on about things, with Connor listening quietly. We finished the meal, but remained there, content to spend a few hours simply sitting and chatting. Again, I did most of the talking, but Connor opened up a little. I questioned him on what life had been like growing up Kanien'kehá ka, pointedly avoiding the topic of his mother and the burning of his village. His answers were short, but thoughtful. I decided that his voice was pleasant, and he needed to talk more. When he didn't have the edge of a blade to my throat, anyway.

We let three hours pass like that before we both agreed we should get some rest. Right before I closed my door, I heard him say my name. I turned to face him.

He hesitated a moment, his hands folded in front of him. "You are certain that this will end well?" He asked finally.

I smiled sadly. "No, but I have to try something, don't I?"

"Yes. I suppose you do." He said, a strangely sympathetic look passing over his face. "Goodnight, Courtney."

"Goodnight, Connor." And with that, we went to our rooms, and fell asleep.


	39. Chapter 36: Planning to Plan for Peace

Ten days passed with me heading to the Green Dragon for a few hours each day. I avoided drinking more than three mugs of beer- Connor wouldn't appreciate having to deal with me while drunk another time. No one showed up those ten days.

Finally, on 24 November, I showed up to find two seats already occupied. Haytham and Shay. The former nodded at me to sit down, while the latter smiled at me.

"I received your letter." Haytham said.

"And?" I prompted.

"This is an… interesting turn of events." He stopped to sip the tea in front of him. "You're certain he is willing to go through with this?"

"He's since found out about my allegiance. It created friction, but he's still willing to work with us." I answered. Shay was listening, seemingly out of the loop.

"You're aware that this could very well fail entirely, and all of our work regarding this would be for nothing?" Haytham stared into the tea thoughtfully.

I nodded. "Yes. But we won't know if it might work until we try."

He looked up at me. "True. When would you have us meet together? And where?"

I considered it for a moment. "Tomorrow, here. Some time in the morning. We'll need a lot of time to work everything out, I'm sure."

"What are you two talking about?" Shay butted in. I guessed Haytham hadn't told him anything.

"We're working out the details of an alliance- or at least peace- between us and the Assassins." I said.

Shay's eyes widened. "You mean… you got him to agree?"

"Yes." I shot him a smirk. "You're not going to go back on your word now, are you?"

He seemed confused for a second, then chuckled, remembering what he'd said the night of my initiation. "No. Of course not."

We continued to talk for a while, catching up and trying to ignore what would be happening the next day. Eventually, I bid them goodbye for the time being, and returned to the inn.

I sat down across from Connor. "I just talked to your father."

He looked up sharply from the book he'd been skimming through. "What did you discuss?"

"We'll be meeting with him tomorrow. Be ready to leave in the morning." I said. He stared at me.

"Where will we be going to meet them at?" He asked.

"Somewhere safe, where we won't have to worry about prying ears. I doubt the people that own the place would appreciate a sword fight breaking out either, so you shouldn't have to worry about them ambushing you." I abandoned the chair, and headed to my room, needing time to think about what was going to happen.

The only times I came back out were to eat, and neither I nor Connor talked when I did.

Tomorrow came far too quickly.


	40. Chapter 37: Family Reunion

Connor was up before me. I had barely gotten my gloves on when he knocked twice, then burst into my room. I opened my mouth to make a comment on his manners, but he spoke before me.

"My father is here." _Shit_.

"What? You're sure it's him?" Why would Haytham be here?

"Yes. Why is he here?"

"That's a good question. Let's go find out." I said, leaving my room. Connor followed closely behind me, and I peeked around the corner of the hall. Sure enough, a familiar navy coat and hat were sighted. He looked my way and I ducked back around the corner. I looked at Connor.

"Do you think he saw me?"I asked, voice a whisper. He peeked out past me, then sprang back.

"Yes."

"Fuck." That meant I had to actually go talk to him, I guessed. "I'll, um, I'll be back in a few seconds? Just to asses the situation. Then I'll- I'll signal you, I guess?"

"I will wait. Do not take long." He said.

"I'll remember that." I turned the corner and headed towards where Haytham sat. I took a seat across from him, and made it look like I was supposed to be there. Which I was-he was the one who was out of place here. "Care to explain why you're here?" I asked.

"I expected you would arrive at the tavern sooner." The corner of his lips twisted up slightly. "I see I was wrong."

I rolled my eyes. "It's not that late."

He raised an eyebrow. "It's easily past ten." He replied.

Was it really that late? I took out my pocket watch, and it was. I cleared my throat. "Sorry."

"Is he still open to cooperating with us?" I could see his knee bouncing a little-a sure fire sign that he was antsy, I'd learned.

"Yes. I actually told him that I'd call him over if this conversation went well." I answered.

He opened his mouth, shut it, and repeated this a couple times. Finally, he said, "Do it."

I looked up to where Connor was leaning against the wall, watching us out of the corner of his eye. I jerked my head to indicate he should come join us. He picked his way through the tables, pulled up a chair, and sat in it.

There was a moment that consisted of just the two of them sizing each other up, seeing each other in person, up close, without any intention to fight for the first time. I wondered if I should excuse myself, but reminded myself that their getting along could very well make or break the entire plan for the two orders. The moment lasted longer than I was expecting, until Haytham broke it by clearing his throat and speaking.

"Courtney tells me that you are willing to work with us."

"That depends on what you intend to do." Connor replied warily.

Haytham looked around at the people around us. "It may not be the best of ideas to discuss this in public." He said lowly.

Connor's eyes narrowed. For a moment, I thought he might refuse to go along with it, but he gave a single nod. Haytham stood first, Connor and I following. He led us to the door. I kept looking between them, feeling odd. I had more experience with Haytham than Connor did, and during the tense walk to the Green Dragon, I began to feel like I'd intruded upon something very private.

We sat down again, and once more, a silence fell upon us. We stayed like that until I couldn't tell quite how much time had passed. Shay was nowhere to be seen. Finally, I got sick of waiting for them to do something.

"So, am I the only one that hasn't eaten breakfast, or are you two hungry as well?" They broke their staring contest and nodded. I met with one of the serving girls, and she came to take our order. We sat waiting for our food, and when it arrived, the two of them hadn't spoken a word to each other. This was maddening.

Three-quarters through the meal, I was, once again, tired of waiting. "For fuck's sake, we're not getting anything done like this. Can you two at least _try_ to stop looking at each other like enemies and just talk?"

They both looked at me, and Connor was the first one to speak this time. "What is it the Templars wish to achieve?" _Thank you!_

Haytham swallowed a mouthful of a mix of eggs, bread, and bacon. "We wish to establish order in the colonies. Due to the unrest among the colonists here, a war is sure to come. We wish to manipulate the revolution to shed as little blood as possible, and in turn put our own in power."

"For what purpose? So your men can be the ones to force those below you to struggle?" Connor's voice had an edge to it.

Haytham rolled his eyes. "So we can ensure that people are safe, that they aren't in danger due to the whims of those who would see them harmed. Unlike you Assassins, who would let everyone run free so long as they weren't forced to follow written law."

"How? By monitoring them? By making them adhere to rules that deprive them of their basic liberties? You act like your laws would be fair, when they would favor the rich, like those among your ranks." Connor shot back.

I was trying not to sigh. The two of them continued on, arguing about their individual sides for at least ten minutes. At least they were talking, I supposed.

Haytham was, once again, in the middle of defending the Templars and cutting down the Assassins, when I interrupted. "Okay, alright, so that was a bad idea. But I have a new one."

They looked at me, both still heated from their verbal duel. I leaned forward. "Why don't we figure out what we all want to happen, and then work out a way to fit it together? One at a time, calmly, without trying to tear each other's throats out. Just. Talk." I flashed them a toothy smile. I gestured to Connor to speak first.

"The Assassins wish for the people to have their basic liberties, to be able to decide their own destiny. We wish for the people to be protected, by something other than armies commanded by the rich and powerful." Connor paused. " _I_ want my people to be safe, and to keep their land." He leaned back to indicate he was finished speaking. _So far, so good_.

I nodded to Haytham. He straightened up and spoke clearly. "The Templars wish to instill order in the colonies, to control the people in order to prevent them from harming one another. We wish to lead them towards success and survival, to form a society that has direction."

I clapped my hands together. "Alright, now, moving on-"

"No. What do _you_ wish to do?" Connor asked. Haytham's attention was fixed on me-I wouldn't get out of this one.

I stared at them for a second. "Um… I want to keep people from dying needlessly. I want to change what happened, and make it better, make it more functional. I want to help arrange peace between the Assassins and Templars." I paused. I thought about what had been on my mind for over a year now. "And maybe, figure out how _exactly_ I was brought here."

They were quiet again, and I led the conversation once more. "Now, we try to find ways that these can work together. Make a plan, like we would in our own groups. But on even terms."

The day would be a long one, I could already tell.


	41. Chapter 38: Diplomacy and Deep Talks

It took an hour to get them to agree on any one thing. They'd devolve into bickering like children the moment I turned away, and I'd have to spend ten minutes getting them to behave like the adults that they were-or, in Connor's case, the teenager he was. The issue of Charles Lee was brought up at some point, and that dominated the conversation for the rest of the day. Despite my insistence that Lee was not responsible for Ziio's death, Connor wanted him dead no less, claiming that regardless of who he had or had not killed, he was dangerous and needed to be taken out. I did have to admit, attacking Connor when he was a child was cruel, even by Charles' standards. Haytham was unwilling to use Lee as a bargaining chip, and the dysfunctional father-son pair glared daggers at each other.

I was exhausted and irritable when I dropped to the stiff mattress in the room I'd rented. We'd accomplished very little throughout the long day, and it was, to say the least, disheartening. But, I guessed it was a start. Though something told me it would be a very long, very difficult journey to get the two sides to cooperate the way I was hoping.

I stayed lucid barely long enough to peel my day clothes off and slip into the chemise in my bag. After that, it was straight to sleep. I slept like the dead.

When I woke up the next morning, I was up and out of my room before Connor. Which was different, but I was more interested in satisfying the dull ache in my stomach than pondering his unusual lateness. I put on a sweet smile for the innkeep-a little old lady whose hair was more white than grey-and she was happy to assist me in my quest for sustenance.

I was still relishing the simple taste of eggs, bread, and bacon by the time Connor appeared. He walked over to me-he still had that overly wary walk, the one that told me he wasn't quite comfortable in this society-and took a seat. I waved at the innkeep to indicate that we'd need another plateful. Connor was watching me closely, hood already drawn up despite us having not left the building yet.

"I would like to ask you something." He stated quietly.

"Alright, then ask it." I said before stuffing more bacon in my mouth.

He didn't say anything for a few seconds, instead electing to continue watching me. "Why do you choose to be involved?" My hands froze over another strip of bacon..

"Huh?" Was my elegant response.

"You have no reason to interfere in this conflict. You have nothing to gain, nothing to lose, and yet you have involved yourself, willingly, as though it were the natural thing to do. You have taken it upon yourself to try and negotiate peace between our two groups, despite others constantly repeating the unlikelihood of your success. Why?" I hadn't expected this deep a question so early in the morning.

I poked at the food on my plate contemplatively. It was a good question, but not one I'd ever really given any deep thought. I looked back up to him. "I guess… because it just feels right. Like…" I tried to think of a good way to articulate my feelings on the matter. "It doesn't really feel like a choice. It just feels like something I'm supposed to do. People could die, I could maybe stop that from happening, and I'd feel like shit if I didn't at least _try_. And yeah, I don't really have anything at stake. But to me, that just means that I don't really have any reason to _not_ do this."

"You could die." He said simply.

"I could die of anything else here, too." I responded.

He seemed satisfied for the time being, and a serving girl brought Connor his food. He mumbled a thanks to her, and ate peacefully.

As we were walking out, however, he started questioning me again. "Did you plan on doing this? Working for peace, I mean."

I shrugged, and started towards a ladder. "Maybe a little. I mean, at the beginning, it was just me giving them information because I had nowhere else to go. I figured I could right it by you later on, or something. But then…" I thought about the year that had passed so quickly and looked back at him as he clambered over the edge. "I guess I got a little more involved than I'd intended. Emotionally speaking, I mean."

He did this little head tilt, not unlike the ones I would do from time to time. "How so?"

I smiled, ran to the edge of the building, and jumped to the next. "The Templars. They started seeming less like dangerous enemies I had to help for the sake of staying alive, and more like just… people. People with flaws, but that's everyone, so I can't really judge."

"Why join them, though? You could have just as easily chosen not to, and simply gone about helping them the same as you had before. You could have come to Achilles and me to work with us with the same goal. Joining them was not necessary to accomplish your goals." He followed me across the rooftops without difficulty.

"By the time Haytham asked, it just seemed like the natural thing to do." I responded.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Well, shit, he'd already given me training, housed me, traveled with me, used what I said to formulate plans, trusted me with his life-once, but still-, and I'd already befriended a few of the Templars. I'd saved Shay from being poisoned, helped him end a decades-long mission a few years early, and, well, I kinda look up to the guy."

"Shay is the one you told me of, back at the homestead." Connor said.

"Yes. He captains a ship. He was one of the first people I met in this time, and he saved my life." I shivered at the memory of nearly dying outside this same city's gates.

"What is he like?" He was still doing that little head tilt.

I couldn't stop the bark of laughter that left my lips, and stopped to look at Connor. He was looking at me curiously. "You ask a lot of questions, sweetie, you know that?"

His reply was indignant. "So says the one who would not stop questioning me over the past three weeks."

I held up my hands, somewhere between a gesture of peace, and an over-exaggerated shrug. "You're an interesting guy."

He didn't seem to know how to respond to that, and instead took the lead to the Green Dragon.

When we arrived, the only people present at the table were Haytham and-to my delight-Shay. I greeted the latter enthusiastically, giving him an awkward hug around the neck.

"Where were you yesterday, you giant oaf?" I asked, not relinquishing my hold on his neck. He grinned up at me.

"Off doing things you'll be jealous of when I tell you about them later." He managed to free himself. Connor stared at the two of us.

"Right, so, Connor, this is Shay. Shay, this is Connor." I said, gesturing to each one as I introduced them. They both nodded to each other, faces impassive as they studied one another. Shay was the one to break the ice.

"Glad to see she's finally making friends her own age. I was worried she'd gotten too used to us grouchy old men." I lightly punched him in the arm, and he dipped his head to hide the smirk on his face.

Connor simply nodded, and sat opposite of Shay, I moved around the table to sit beside the Assassin. The way we were situated, Haytham and Shay were on one side, and Connor and I on the other. Hopefully Shay would be more inclined to help keep the peace than to argue.


	42. Chapter 39: Babysitting and Beer

To my greatest relief, Shay assisted in helping to keep the two Kenways civil. He'd make jokes here and there to detract from the sheer intensity of the situation, though it made me wince the couple of times he did raise his voice; years of shouting over torrential winds and roaring waves hadn't weakened the man's voice, evidently.

We still made little progress, as Connor and Haytham still found subjects they would linger on ages after Shay and I seemed to agree they were done with. Multiple times, Shay and I would hold each other's gazes across the table, desperation written on our tired faces.

A short while after dinner, Shay finally sighed. "I think we should call it a day. We all need some rest, and you two need to work some things out- alone." I looked at him.

"Pardon me?" Haytham inquired, a bitter note on his tongue from his endless quarreling with Connor.

Shay looked like he wanted to sigh again. I could relate. "You both obviously need to work on the fact that you are, in fact, father and son, and then _maybe_ we'll manage to accomplish something." He stood, and gestured to me to follow. "There's obviously more at stake than your petty squabbling over who did what and who's at fault for this." He put an arm around my shoulder and we left, both Kenways staring at our backs as we descended the stairs.

I sighed as we walked out the door. "I need a drink."

Shay laughed. "Those two really take a lot out of you, huh?" He guided us to one of the many taverns we'd frequented during the times we were both here.

"No shit. If I hear one more remark about naivety or corruption, and it sounds faintly like the speaker has one of their accents? I might just end up breaking a table in half." I muttered.

"Now, who's going to pay for it if you do? Me?" Shay balked.

"Yes." I said with a grin.

"I refuse to take responsibility for your needless destruction of private property." He stated firmly.

I pouted. "But I don't have any money!"

"Well, you should think of that before you go breaking things, shouldn't you?" Shay chided.

I was mocking the last thing he'd said by the time we stepped out of the cold and into the crowded tavern. We greeted the barkeep, who remembered us-whether fondly or not, I couldn't say.

"Where's the other one?" He asked, reaching to retrieve the same bottles of alcohol he had every other time we'd visited.

"He's away on business." I responded.

"Business? Only business I could see that one in is the business of swindling." He said, a skeptical look on his face.

"He has experience there, too- no woman would get anywhere near him if he were honest." Shay replied. I snorted and tried to keep my laughter somewhat quiet.

The barkeep rolled his eyes as he set two mugs down in front of us. "You know what to do if you need something." He said, moving away to tend to other patrons.

"Nice one, Shay." I said, nudging him. He nudged me back.

"Well, it's the truth, you know." He raised his mug, and I raised mine. We clinked them together in a toast. "To not babysitting grown men."

I grinned. "Amen." And with that, we drank the night away.

* * *

We stumbled back to the Green Dragon late that night, each leaning heavily on the other. We were a mess of a pair- the two of us laughing, shoving each other, and scarcely able to talk. When we finally managed to open the door to the tavern, we both just barely managed to keep from sprawling on the floor in a heap. It was a good thing the place was mostly empty.

Haytham and Connor peered over the railing. "Are you two alright?" The posh accent had to be Haytham's.

I smiled up at them and waved. "Us? We're great! Perfectly fine, as a matter of-" I bumped into a table and stopped talking, utterly surprised and wondering if it had really been there when I'd stepped in.

"We just went for a little drink, nothing to worry about." Shay said, tripping after me and grabbing hold of me to keep from falling.

The Kenways both came down, and said something to each other. Haytham grabbed onto Shay, and led him up the stairs. Likewise, Connor started to lead me out of the building again. Shay and I waved at each other and called some rather interesting goodbyes to each other. It's a pity I couldn't later remember them.

Connor gave up on trying to help me walk very early into our brief journey to our inn. He gave an irritated sigh and muttered something under his breath. He looped his arms under my knees and upper back, and the next thing I knew, I was being carried by him. It was cold out, and he was warm, so I certainly wasn't complaining. I cuddled closer to him, a goofy, lopsided smile still on my lips.

I don't know how long the walk was, but I did know the exact moment we entered the inn. I felt the warmth of the building surrounding me, and I yawned. Connor said something to the innkeeper, and carried me to my room. When he set me down, I pouted and reached for him like a child.

"Connor," I drawled. "I'm cold." He rolled his eyes as he moved out of reach.

"Then get under your covers. Goodnight, Courtney." He said.

"G'night, Conny!" I called after him. He paused, evidently considering something, but he said nothing. I registered the sound of a closing door, and I proceeded to try and wrap myself in the covers. I wouldn't know until the next morning, when my head was throbbing and my back aching, that I had failed horribly in the simple endeavor. Nor would I remember most of the night, thanks in no small part to the alcohol in my system and the mental burnout I had from mediating between the two Kenways all day.

How embarrassing.


	43. Chapter 40: Hangover

Waking up that next morning was a struggle. I fought to cover my eyes against the light pouring in from the windows, trying desperately to get more sleep. I eventually decided to get up, and it took me longer than usual to change out of the clothes I'd fallen asleep in. I walked out of my room and to the table where Connor and I had spent the last few days eating our breakfasts, and, occasionally, suppers. He was already seated, finished with breakfast and evidently just waiting for me to stumble out.

I took my seat, and had to lean forward, screwing my eyes shut and rubbing my temples. I felt, to put it simply, like shit. I didn't quite hear what Connor said at first, and let out a small sound of question.

"I will be going to the Green Dragon alone today." He repeated patiently.

I looked at him, brow furrowed. "What? No, I'm fine, I can totally-" He held up a hand to silence me.

"While your current state leads me to believe you should get more rest, it is not the reason that I wish to go alone today. Shay's words last night, about the relationship between my father and I, were true. I believe it would be best for everyone if my father and I… get to know each other." He paused near the end, as though the idea seemed a bit odd, and somewhat daunting. While I still wanted to argue that I would have been able to go, it was obvious there was no reason to. I nodded. Connor was kind enough to order a meal for me before he left, and as I took my time to eat the meal, I was busy deciding whether he should be deemed a saint.

I went back to my room after a while, stripped, and fell into bed. This time, I managed to properly shield myself from the cold with the sheets.

I woke up a few times throughout the day, each time my head and back screaming at me in pain slightly less. I was nearly fully recovered by the time night fell. I redressed, and headed to the table I'd sat at earlier that day with a pencil and what I'd decided was a sketchbook.

I'd scribbled dozens of meaningless little doodles on the paper and had an oversized supper-to make up for the dinner I'd missed-by the time Connor walked back in.

I looked up as he sat down. "So, how'd Kenway family bonding time go?"

He grunted. "Well enough, I suppose." He looked me over. "And you?"

"I don't think my head is going to explode anymore, so I'm assuming I'm mostly better."

He looked at me. "Why drink to such excess if you know it will only cause you pain later?"

I shrugged. "I guess I was more preoccupied with trying to out-drink Shay. Which, by the way, is an awful idea and I don't recommend trying it." He scoffed.

"I can imagine."

I smirked at him. "I'd like to see you try to out-drink him."

"I think I would have to decline the offer." He said.

"Fine, fine. You're a real stick in the mud sometimes." He raised an eyebrow, but I asked a question before he could either go silent or speak. "Was Shay hanging around today, by the way?"

"According to my father, Shay had resigned himself to remaining in his room for the day, not unlike yourself." He had an amused look on his face at the end of the sentence.

I put my hands up. "Hey, it's not like we didn't pay for our horrible, awful, absolutely dreadful crime of drinking so much."

"Perhaps it will make you reconsider next time." He suggested.

"Mmm… Nah, we'll never learn our lesson, I think." I smiled. I had a thought. "By the way…"

"Hm?"

"Sorry for, y'know, making you carry me back here. I don't remember a lot, but I do remember that." I smiled sheepishly.

"It is fine. So long as it does not become a habit, I will not hold it against you." He answered.

"That's a shame, I rather liked being in your arms." I inwardly admonished myself. This was becoming a bad habit.

Connor raised an eyebrow at me. An awkward moment passed. "Have… Have you been intentionally flirting with me the entire time we have known each other?"

"Not… This one was _entirely_ unintentional." Upon realizing that my words could be taken the wrong way, my mouth wouldn't stop running in a desperate attempt to not seem rude. "That's not to say I _didn't_ like you carrying me-because I did-, it's just that you were really warm and it was really cold, and I was really drunk- What I mean to say is, I definitely don't think you're unattractive-quite the opposite, you're very handsome-, it's just that I didn't mean to say what I did a couple of minutes ago and I feel like I may have given the wrong impression by saying it."

Connor seemed to still be catching up with the nervous rush of words. "I… see."

I stood up. "Right, so, I've been inside all day, and I just realized I have a _lot_ of energy I need to work off. So, I'll just be, y'know, outside, running around. Doing things. So, later, darling!" I walked towards the door, stumbling a little on my way out and cursing my use of a _pet name_ after the train wreck of a conversation. I could feel Connor's bewildered stare as I finally shut the door. The cold air was a welcome change from the heat of the inn and the heat of my embarrassment.

I spent a good amount of time covering ground around the city, slipping here and there as I found my mind wandering back to the uncomfortable situation back at the inn.

 _You really looked like a damn fool back there, congrats!_ I was in disbelief that I had let the situation go quite that awkwardly. Normally, I managed to have something to say to make things go more smoothly. But back in the inn, I'd panicked.

I hit the ground, dropping into a roll before standing upright and brushing the snow and sleet off my clothes, and I sighed.

I really don't need some ridiculous, melodramatic, teenage bullshit in my life at the moment. I decided I'd just keep acting like I had. My being a Templar was a much bigger thing than what I'd said, and things had gone relatively smoothly after that.


	44. Chapter 41: Attention

I didn't see much of Connor the next day-or the day after that-as he'd requested more time to try and form something resembling a functional relationship with his father. I was getting antsy. Each day that passed brought us closer to two events: Stephane either murdering the target or being killed in the process-I doubted William would want him alive if a decision wasn't reached-, and the possible Boston Tea Party.

At one time, I'd fantasized about being part of such a big event in history. Now? Having walked among the colonists, the idea of throwing so much money out of the window as part of a protest-or a party, as circumstance may have it-seemed… childish. It seemed like something a two year old would do if their parents asked them to do their chores, but instead, they just threw something across the room. There were better ways to break away than wasting resources like that.

Political criticism aside, we did need an answer from William, and we needed one within the next three days. Haytham had mentioned having sent word to the man, but I was beginning to fear it had been sent too late.

I was spending most of my time surveying the city and musing on current circumstances with Shay. We both admitted to missing the pain in our asses that was Thomas, and took measures to ensure the Kenways wouldn't have to dig us out of trouble or haul us back to our sleeping quarters.

Today, I was just entering the Green Dragon tavern when a tap on my shoulder made me reach for the sword at my side. I turned and came face to face with a tired-looking man who, despite being average in height, had a heavy slouch, like he hadn't stood straight in years. My hand dropped from the hilt of my blade.

"Would you happen to know any of the guests in this establishment?" His voice was a bit scratchy, and his breath smelled of smoke. He didn't seem bad, but I had my reservations about people who smoked. I'd put up with it throughout my childhood, and was thoroughly sickened by the stench. I kept my composure and nodded with a pleasant smile.

"Some, yes. Who might you be looking for?"

He took an envelope out of the bag at his side-the mangled thing looked forlorn hanging from his shoulder. He squinted to read the front of the envelope, as though he didn't quite know how to read. "Master Haytham Kenway." He effectively butchered the name. His squinty eyes focused on me once more.

"Oh, yes, I know him. I'm his apprentice." He gave me an odd once over, as though he didn't believe me, but handed the thick paper to me nonetheless.

"My employer is very important, if this doesn't get to Master Kenway, there will be repercussions." His pronunciation was horribly wrong on several words, and he held a self-important air about himself that made me like him a little less.

I kept smiling. "I'm sure there will be, sweetie. Now, why don't you get back to work instead of bragging to little old me, so I can give this to the big man himself?" I waved at him with a quiet, drawn out "Bye." as I backed into the tavern.

I peered up, and saw both Kenways sitting at the table, talking about something. I walked up the stairs, and Connor peeked over his father's shoulder. Haytham turned to look at me, an expression of annoyance on his face. I held up the letter.

"Delivery for a," I paused to make a show of reading the fine handwriting. "'Master Haytham Kenway'. Know anyone by that name?" I couldn't keep the smirk off my face as Haytham rolled his eyes and took the letter from my hands.

"There's no reason to be so attention-seeking." He muttered.

"Yes there is. I want attention. So I'm seeking it." I said. Haytham gave me a look of irritation as he turned and tore open the letter. I stood behind him, mimicking the posture I'd come to associate with the proper man: hands held behind me, back rigid-more than mine was usually-, and chin angled slightly higher than parallel to the floor. I cast a glance over at Connor. He was hiding that odd expression I'd come to associate with him being amused. Either they were getting along better, or at least one other person-besides myself-found my antics entertaining.

Haytham looked up at me, and I quickly lowered my chin, held my hands in front of me, and relaxed a bit. He cleared his throat before he spoke. "Johnson has stated that, if we believe that the costs that we could potentially save by sacrificing his man outweigh those that will be lost with his death, then he is willing to let him be killed."

Something about the way he said that, it made me briefly think twice about the plan. We were discussing people like they were money, and not people. But at the same time, I rationalized it away. We weren't just doing this for money. We were doing this to gain an ally, to help start up the revolution a little more, to help ensure Connor's people were safe. One man could die to ensure all of that, surely. A little voice in the back of my head wondered, _what about when one turns to one hundred?_

"That's great." I forced myself to respond. It was great; we were making progress. I turned to Connor. "You'll have to make sure Stephane's protected-he can fend for himself in a fight, but there will be a good number of guards trying to take him out."

"And where will you be during this time?" He questioned.

"I was thinking I could provide assistance from the rooftops, just as an added measure. Plus, I think it would be a good idea to have a Templar there to speak with him about joining the Assassins." I replied. Connor looked to Haytham.

"Then why not have my father come along?" I didn't know that I should answer that.

"No, she's the best candidate in this case." Haytham said. I looked at him, my eyebrows raised. He raised one in turn. "You're more amiable to strangers, it's likely that he would respond more positively to seeing a friendly face such as yours. Besides, I've business to attend to."

Connor and I spoke at the same time. "What kind of business?"

Haytham took on an appearance not unlike that of an angry owl. "Never mind that, just do as you've said." I almost laughed at the phrase and its similarity to one in-game.

Connor looked unimpressed, though I took it in stride. I decided to see if I was needed for anything else. "Of course. Is there anything I should be doing today?"

Haytham thought for a moment, then let out a soft "ah" as though he'd remembered something. "Shay requested I send you his way. He should be on his ship right now. I'd hurry if I were you. Swimming isn't fun in winter."

"Swimming isn't fun anytime if you can't do it." I said, descending the stairs.

"What?" I heard one of them ask, but I was already on my way, and I wasn't turning back.

I make it sound much more dramatic than it was, really I was just too lazy to venture back up the stairs to answer any questions. And, admittedly, excited to hang around Shay.


	45. Chapter 42: Ship Graveyard

I boarded the _Morrigan_ , saying hello to a few crew members I recognized. I made my way up to the wheel, where Shay was observing his crew as they worked.

"So, captain, what is it you needed me for?" I asked, sauntering up to him. He got me in a headlock, despite my protest, and held me there for several minutes. "You do this _every_ time I come on your ship, for fuck's sake!"

He laughed. "It's tradition now. Can't not do it." He finally released me, and I knocked my hip against his a bit more roughly than was strictly necessary. I stepped out of the way when he tried to do the same back.

"You're just doing this because you know I like you too much to try to kick your ass."

"And not because I would win, without question?"

"I'm too pretty to lose." He stared at me a moment then burst out laughing.

"I want to argue, but I can't come up with a response to that." He said as he caught his breath.

I grinned. "No one can. Because it's _true_. Now, why don't you answer the question I asked, y'know, before you tried to strangle me?"

He snickered a bit more. "Fine, fine, I've had my fun." He straightened up, making it look like he hadn't been wrestling with a seventeen year old just moments ago. "I need some assistance in retrieving some documents lost on a small group of shipwrecks. We know they at least have _some_ details about members of the order we'd rather keep secret. After we get them, we'll be sinking them; I figured you'd enjoy that, if nothing else. More so than dealing with a bunch of family drama."

"How long will we be gone?" I asked.

"Oh, it's just a few hours away. We'll be back sometime tomorrow night." He answered.

A smile spread across my face. "Well then, let's go!"

I reclined on the railing, watching Shay order about the men scampering across the deck. A lazy, relaxed smile was stretched across my face. It was hard to not cheer up around Shay. He turned to me and gave me a mockingly suspicious look.

"What's got you so happy?" He questioned.

I shook my head. "Nothing. Just enjoying your company."

He squinted his eyes. "I'm not sure if you're being sarcastic or not."

"For once in my life, I'm being sincere." I said.

"Don't get sappy on me." He faked an expression of mock disgust.

"I'm offended that you don't appreciate my affection." I said with false indignation.

He just shook his head with a smile, and went back to ordering the men around. Soon enough, we were off. While at first, we were simply sailing near the coast, keeping to deeper waters, we moved closer to the coast. Rocky outcroppings passed on either side, an ominous reminder that the slightest error could leave us a ragged pile of wood and canvas.

After some searching, we came across what could be mistaken as a ship graveyard. I counted seven ships, all broken and rotting against rock. Three had been tossed several meters above the rugged surface of the water-a nasty fate that I prayed I'd never experience first hand.

Shay called out some orders, and the lanky man I'd once bothered for food made his way up. I gave a small wave to him, and he flashed me that toothy grin of his.

"Courtney," Shay called, moving to the main deck. I followed him, listening to his instructions. "We'll be tackling these one at a time. I don't suppose you've learned to swim any better?"

"Not a bit." I said.

"Damn. Alright, well, be careful. It's bad enough when a strong swimmer falls into waters like these at this time of year." He muttered the last part. That didn't sound very reassuring. He started talking again. "This one we're coming up on will be first; stay close to me unless I say otherwise, and if something sounds like it's gonna break, move." I nodded. The skeleton of a ship in question was large, much more so than the _Morrigan_. The only reason we'd be able to jump on the main deck was because the bow dipped into the water.

As we approached the wreck, I was thankful that we wouldn't yet be scaling any of the slippery rock. Shay was the first to drop down, landing with a solid thud on the wood. He waved to me, and I jumped down as well. For a moment, I felt my breath catch in my throat at the sight of the swirling water below. And then, I hit the deck and slid towards the front of the ship, snow and ice only exacerbating it. Shay caught me by the arm and asked if I was alright. I shook off my fright, and followed after Shay towards the hatch. Together, we pulled the askew grate across the rotting wood of the deck, and descended. I took a moment to let my eyes adjust to what was mostly darkness. Tendrils of light broke through cracks in boards and puncture wounds in the walls. Water sloshed on one end, where the bow dipped into the water.

"Watch your step, there's netting all over the damn place." I heard. "You search down on the other end, I'll go this way. Take any documents you find." He wandered off toward the sound of the water. I turned the opposite direction, where I knew the stores were. I weaved my way around barrels and crates, the stench of spoiled food growing stronger. I heaved the mangled doorway to a room out of the way, and entered the dark alcove.

It was harder to see, and I mainly felt my way around. My hip bumped into something harshly, prompting me to rub it tenderly. My hands ran across the object that had so rudely gotten in my way: a desk. I rummaged through the drawers, having to pick the lock on one-I reminded myself to thank Grace when I saw her next. A considerable number of papers were in there-of what, I wasn't certain, but Shay had said he'd wanted any I found. I searched the rest of the room, turning up empty-handed aside from what I'd found in the desk. The rest of the area had papers, but all were soggy and had no hope of ever being legible again. I returned to where the hatch allowed light to shine down.

"Shay?" I called out.

A moment passed. Then another. I stepped closer towards the bow.

"Shay? Come on man, where are you?"

I was about to call out for him again, when a voice answered my previous calls. "What is it? Did you find something?"

I felt myself relax-when had I tensed?-at the sound of his voice. "Yeah, not sure if it's useful or not, but it's definitely paper." I waved what I had in hand, the wavy sound of paper echoing down the ship.

"You've looked everywhere back there?" His voice came again.

"Yes." I answered.

"Go up top, look in the captain's cabin. See what's in there." His words were punctuated by a series of sloshing and some colorful cursing.

"Aye, aye, captain." I shouted over my shoulder as I exited the dark hold. I walked over the half-frozen deck, chancing a look around to find the _Morrigan_. She was sitting patiently out in clearer waters, likely waiting for a signal of some kind from Shay.

I pried open the doors to the cabin when I reached them, the hinges screeched in protest, and I cringed at the noise.

The cabin wasn't horribly lit. Windows lined all of the back of the room, some busted and others coated in a layer of dust. The light that filtered in alternated from white to green due to the algae-covered windows. I heard glass crunching underfoot, boards creaking with my weight, a cold breeze through the windows. I was glad Shay had taken the sunken bow; the water had to be freezing.

I began searching the chaos of upturned furniture. I'd just finished searching a bookshelf, and I was skimming the pages out of curiosity.

I nearly missed something that made my heart stop and beat faster all at once.


	46. Chapter 43: Comfort

I reread the page in disbelief.

 _Your voyage to retrieve the contents of your predecessor's ship sounded mostly successful aside from this small inconvenience. I send my deepest condolences for the loss of your crewmate. Our search for him has been extensive, though we're yet unable to locate him. He went missing at sea, and-though I dislike to say it-I have little hope that he will be found._

 _I can't help but question the event you say caused his disappearance. You claim him to have, and I paraphrase, vanished in a flash of light, reminiscent of the sun, and to have felt the edges of reality blurring around you, to have felt the wind knocked from your chest. You even claim to have "seen into a world unlike our own?" You then proceeded to say that you were even able to find the object he'd picked up, the "golden pyramid covered with arcane markings" you claim was responsible for the strange situation. My apologies for how this may sound, but I worry for your health, Commander Stainton. It is not normal to describe such fantastic happenings as vividly as you did in your first letter to me._

 _If you need, I may be capable of arranging for a duration of shore leave for you and your crew._

I stared at the page. I reread the passage over and over. This sounded eerily similar to what had happened to me, and I clutched at the paper, small tears forming on the edges from the lack of gentleness.

I wasn't an isolated event. This had happened before. How many times? How many different timelines were there, permanently altered by those who had been ripped away from their home? Had this happened to anyone more than once? If I did happen to find the object that had changed the course of my life, would it send me back to my time, or even further into the past? Was I stuck here?

The last question brought on an entirely different onslaught of questions. Did I really mind it here all that much? I'd been happier here than I had been in my time. I felt useful here, I was _doing_ something. Even if I were granted the option to return, would I? Or would I choose to remain here, with the people I looked up to and now considered, strangely enough, friends?

I'd started something during my time here. I'd intentionally done things to alter the course of history forever. I'd involved myself in matters that, quite frankly, I hadn't fully understood in my time. I was a part of something I'd once seen as nothing more than a game. I'd done things that I would remember for the rest of my life, no matter where I was-I'd _killed_ people. If I did return, would I ever really be able to go back to living the life I'd led?

Heavy footfalls came from behind me. I looked to them. Shay stood in the doorway, and he paused mid-sentence. His brow furrowed at my expression.

"What's wrong?"

"I- this- I found this. It's- It sounds just like…" I handed the page to him, and he read it. He lowered it after a second, looked at me. I was lost in thought and panic was rising in my chest.

"You're certain this is the same thing that happened to you?" He stepped closer.

"Yes. What else could it be?" I looked to my hands, imagining the burn marks on the left even through the leather.

Shay reached out to me. "Hey, are you alright?" His voice was quiet. Before I knew what I was doing, I had my arms wrapped as far as they would go around his torso. He stood frozen for a second, then I felt him rubbing my back, saying soothing things in a low voice. He was a lot warmer than the air around us.

"I'm sorry." I murmured.

"For what?" He asked.

"For… this. I should just handle this on my own. I shouldn't be dragging anyone else into my problems. You have your own shit to deal with, and here I am, worrying about this bullshit." The words were soft, but they were the same things I'd told myself a thousand times before. I believed them wholeheartedly.

Shay pulled away from me a bit. "You've been sent back in time and thrown into a war that the majority of society knows nothing about. You've been handling it better than… well, better than anyone could really ask for the entire time you've been here." He frowned when I shook my head. "You've been dealing with things that nearly no one else has experienced. It's okay to feel overwhelmed."

"But I _shouldn't_." I insisted.

"It's normal. And you have nothing to be sorry about." He said.

"I just… I feel guilty. Like, I shouldn't be giving you trouble with this. I should be able to handle it on my own." I mumbled.

"Why would you think that?" His brow furrowed.

"I guess… I guess because that's what my parents always said about everything." I choked out.

He stared for a second. "For how long?"

I shrugged. "As far back as I can remember."

"And how far back do you remember?" His tone was only slightly severe.

I shrugged weakly. "Back to when I was… four?" His expression saddened, and he pulled me closer again, resting his chin on my head.

He spoke softly, like I might be frightened away by anything more than the quietest of noise. "They don't sound like very good parents." I clung to him tighter. We stood there for a few more moments, embracing in the chilly cabin. He stopped hugging me after awhile, but still held on to my arms. "What do you say we go take care of some more of these wrecks, and then get some rest?" I nodded and he led us on to the deck.

We jumped on the side of the _Morrigan_ , and climbed up. Shay said a few words to some of the crew, and we spent the remainder of the day searching the other three ships that didn't require we climb the slick surfaces of the rocks.

By the time night fell, I was calmed down, though the multitude of questions still plagued me, making me think and rethink the answers to them. Things were easier when you didn't think about them, I decided.


	47. Chapter 44: Embarrassing Confession

I was in Shay's cabin that night, curled up in the chair with a blanket, still feeling an odd knot in my gut. I still felt like it wasn't right for me to accept help. I wasn't supposed to do that. I was supposed to deal with it myself.

But a part of me was desperate for the comfort he offered. I was confused by it all. I was supposed to be the one comforting other people. I was the one who was supposed to be helping people. I was supposed to be the one who could take care of myself. I wasn't sure whether I found the lack of judgement relaxing or worrying.

Shay was stretched out on his bed, reading one of the many books that lined the shelf next to it. I stared at him out of the corner of my eye. Finally, I spoke.

"Shay?"

He looked up. "Yes?"

"...Is it… would it be wrong for me to… to not _want_ to go back to the time I'm from?" The words were mumbled, but he heard them just fine. The man had to have had the hearing of a bat.

"Do you not want to go back?" He asked.

I fiddled with the hidden blades strapped to my wrists. "I'm trying to figure that out." A lull in the conversation. "I'd be safer there. The vast majority of my friends are there. It's the world I know best."

"I sense an 'and yet...' at the end of that sentence." He said.

I smiled a little. "Yeah. I feel… important here. Like I'm doing something that matters. I feel like I started something, and now I have to be here to see how it ends up. And…" I swallowed the apprehension that threatened to clog up my throat. "And I don't want to leave you guys. You, Haytham, Tommy, Grace, Etienne, William-hell, even Connor, and I haven't known him that long."

"Do you think you'll ever get the chance to go back?" His voice was gentle.

"I don't know. And even if I do happen to find that thing, I don't know if it'd send me back, or if I'd just get sent somewhere else entirely. I don't know if it'd be worth it. I have something here, now, and I don't know if I want to risk losing it all."

He nodded in understanding. We didn't say anything for a while. Then, I started laughing at myself quietly. He looked at me, a confused smirk on his face.

"Can I make a kinda weird confession?" Giggles were still escaping me.

"I won't stop you." He answered.

My gaze was everywhere but him-intentionally. "I knew about you in my time, and, well, I honestly looked up to you a lot? Like, I really admired you for being able to make the choices you did, even though they were the kind of things that you regret regardless of what happens. I talked about you to my friends a lot. I think they were tired of hearing about you after the first day." I rubbed my arm. "It was... kinda embarrassing."

When I dared to look at him, he seemed surprised. "That's… I'm flattered."

I shrugged, a little red in the cheeks. "I just… thought you might want to know that, or whatever." He had a soft smile on his face.

"Yeah." He paused. "Thank you."

"For what?" I asked.

"Reassurance." He went back to reading without a word, and I went back to snuggling with the blanket on the chair. A voice still nagged me in the back of my head, saying that I shouldn't be opening up. For once, I found it in me to ignore it for a little while, and I did my best to enjoy the simple security of a warm room, friendly face, and soft blanket.


	48. Chapter 45: Near Death Experience

I woke up the next morning a bit sore from sleeping in a chair. But for once, I felt fully rested, like I'd gotten real sleep as opposed to the light, fitful rest I had years of experience with. I looked over at the sound of shuffling, and saw Shay rearranging some books on his shelf. He'd discarded his outer layer some time earlier, and now wore only breeches and a shirt. I burrowed myself further into the blanket and watched him. The only light was from a lamp he'd lit, and through the windows I could see snow being blown wildly in the wind; even the snow looked dark in the lack of light.

Eventually he huffed and rolled his neck, sharp popping noises accompanied a sigh of contentment. He looked over to me, and smiled upon seeing I was awake.

"You're up early."

I uncovered my mouth so he could hear me clearly. "Not as early as you, it seems."

He gave a one-sided shrug. "Captain's gotta be up before his crew." I narrowed my eyes.

"Wow, yeah, like all those times I was up before you." I joked.

"Hey, I was up. I was just in here, doing things." He retorted, moving to grab his clothing.

"What kinda things?" I prompted.

"Things." He said in a conspiratorial whisper. He began straightening the garments out.

"The things you must have done. Risking your life doing such dangerous things so the rest of us don't have to." I spoke exaggeratedly.

"A statue should be built in my honor." He mused, buttoning up his vest.

"How big would it be? You gotta think about these things." I popped my knuckles one by one.

He hummed as he shrugged on his coat. "Lifesize. If you need it any larger, you're just overcompensating."

"Spoken like a true hero. But, alas, we must decide what it would be made of, sir!" I stretched, the blanket falling away from me.

"A hard choice. Gold, maybe bronze." He'd just tugged on his stockings and a boot.

"But gold is gaudy. It'll look like you're full of yourself. And bronze will get all discolored over time." I stood and started to fold the blanket.

He wrapped his sash around his waist, reaching for the ridiculous amount of belts he wore. "Oh, come on. Marble, then."

I was still fussing with folding the fabric perfectly. "Elegant, but not over-imposing. A good choice."

After a few moments, he managed to finish strapping all of the strips of leather to his person. "Are you just making these things up?"

I gave him a dirty look. "I'm sorry, who's the artist here?"

"Me." He said, walking out. I hurriedly placed the blanket on the back of the chair and followed after him.

"Unbelievable. And here I thought I had talent." I had a toothy smile on my face.

"Such a shame to find out you're wrong." He turned to shout some orders, to bring us closer to one of the ships clinging precariously to the rock. I looked at the icy walls nervously. An arm fell around my shoulders.

"Not nervous, are you?" Shay had a wide grin on his face.

"Of possibly slipping and falling to my death? Nah." I said.

His expression softened into a sympathetic smile and he gave a couple solid pats to my back. "You'll be fine. Just do what I do."

As we came up to the outcropping, Shay ran and jumped onto a small expanse of stone that didn't appear as slick as the rest. I followed after him, thankful to land on the dark rock despite the flurries of snow that kept my eyes squinted. We walked over to where the rock jutted upwards, pacing around what area we could in hopes to find the safest route upwards.

Eventually, Shay indicated that I should follow him, and we started the short yet daunting ascent.

The ship was positioned roughly ten meters above us. I'd climbed higher before, but I couldn't help the increase in my pulse when my hands would slip on patches of icier rock. Shay would look down to check on me, I'd nod, and we'd continue. After a good twenty-five minutes of freezing in the wind and snow-I was sure sleet was mixing in now, too-, Shay hauled himself into the hold through a gaping hole in the side. He reached down and pulled me up with him.

"Be careful. There's no telling if one misstep could send us crashing into the water." He warned. We made our way around the hold, which was largely occupied with rock. With the wind not hitting us directly, it was slightly warmer-slightly. Shay peeped through the small part of the hatch that wasn't blocked by rock. He attempted to squeeze through, but turned out to be too big.

"Let me try." I stepped towards the hole.

"Alright, just be careful." He reminded me as I barely managed to pull myself through. I crept across the deck towards the captain's cabin; if there were any documents here, they'd be there.

I shivered-whether due to cold or fear at the thought of the entire ship plummeting into the water, I wasn't sure.

I reached the doors to the cabin, and eased them open slowly. They screeched just as loudly as those on the other wrecks had. I took caution with moving through the cramped space. Just like the others, things were in disarray. I dug through the mess, looking for anything I could find. I came out of the small space with only a few pieces of paper, which I tucked into my coat. I squeezed back through the hole, and found Shay waiting for me.

"Find anything?" He asked.

"Not much, but a little." I replied. He nodded, and we started back towards the hole we'd entered through.

The descent was trickier than the ascent. With every movement, I was worried I'd fall either onto the stone or into the water. Neither seemed pleasant. I sighed with relief when we finally reached the bottom. We stood for a few minutes, huddling together against the cold, as we waited for the Morrigan to come back around. When she did, we both jumped and grasped for any hand and footholds we could find.

The next ship was uneventful. The climb was easier-in no small part due to the angle of the rocks it was suspended from. Nothing was found in that one. The snow and sleet let up partway through our exploration of that one.

The final ship was just as easy to get to, though higher up. It looked like it could fall to the waters below at any moment.

Shay set foot on it, and walked ten paces toward the captain's quarters. On his eleventh, the entire vessel groaned and started to tilt towards him. He glanced at me and gingerly made his way back.

"We may want to leave this one as is. Not worth the trouble." He said, looking back at the wreck.

I shuffled my feet. I didn't really want to go all the way back empty-handed. "If you stood over there," I pointed at the front of the ship. "I could probably make it to the cabin safely."

He didn't seem to like the idea. "There's always the possibility of it coming down anyway."

"Yeah, but if there's something important in there, we should get it. We won't get another chance." I argued.

He regarded me for a moment, still uneasy with the idea. "If you're sure…"

"I am." I said. This would just be another thing to add to my ever-increasing list of death-defying stunts.

Shay did as I'd asked, and slowly walked closer toward the bow of the ship. It was groaning under his feet, and it tilted slightly towards him. He looked at me uneasily. I started to make my way towards the cabin.

The sounds the wood beneath my feet made were nerve-wracking. With every step, I feared the ship would start slipping off the rock and plummeting into the dark reaches of the sea below.

My heart leapt up into my throat when the ship shuddered violently. I looked back at Shay. His eyes were locked on me, waiting for me to give the word to move off if needed. I turned back and gradually managed to get to the doors. I opened them slowly, afraid that too much movement at once might bring about my-and Shay's-doom.

I stepped into the room. It was just as much a mess as the others, though the portside wall and half of the back were gone. Splintered wood framed a wide view of the water and some of the other ships. Furniture was missing; a bed, desk, and wardrobe were nowhere to be seen, and what looked like a battered, ornate chest hovered on the edge, ready to fall at any moment.

Carefully, I stepped closer to it, each footfall making my heart beat faster with fear. I reached the chest, and took my time in picking the lock keeping it closed. My hands were shaking hard enough that it took me several tries. Finally, it popped open, nearly giving me a heart attack with the suddenness of it.

I opened it the rest of the way, examining the contents as light poured into the fancy box. A journal was the only item in it. I reached out, flipped it open. It was written in a language I wasn't familiar with. It bore some resemblance to the little bits of Danish I'd picked up from reading about my great-grandfather. A Scandinavian language, then?

I closed the chest, and started to make my way back to the door. I shivered violently when I exited-this time, I knew it was fear. A loud cracking noise sliced through the chilly air. I made eye contact with Shay. He shouted my name, and we both bolted for the safety of the rock. He made it there first.

Just a couple feet remained between I and the ship when I felt the ground beneath my feet vanish, and a wave of pure terror washed over me. Something grabbed my arm, and my body jerked violently. My other hand swung up and clung to the arm holding my own, and I was yanked onto solid ground. My fingers dug into something soft, and I clung to Shay's form. I could feel his heart beating hard as the sound of something huge hitting water roared over the sound of everything else.

Even after things went silent, all we could do was sit up. After minutes of processing what had just happened, I started giggling. Pretty soon, we were both breathless-with laughter rather than fear.

We returned to the ship the same way we had the last six times, and he ordered the men to ready the cannons.

We looked on, crewmen cheering as the six remaining ships were broken apart and sunk. A couple squeals of delight left me during the process, and Shay mocked me for them. We were arguing over whether or not he was as big an ass as I claimed when we entered his cabin, intending to dig through the letters, reports, journal, and all other manner of paper we'd recovered.


	49. Chapter 46: Almost Peaceful

We spent the trip back poring over the documents we'd found. Most were in English, though some-like the journal-were in other languages. A couple letters were in Spanish, another couple in French. I covered those, though my limited skill with the languages left considerable gaps, ones that would have to be filled in by others later on. There was little doubt I'd made a mistake here and there, as well, though I did my best.

Some time during the process, late in the evening after we'd eaten supper and had spent hours fully focused on the papers, I started to fall asleep. My eyes grew droopy, my hands more uncoordinated. After some time, I simply let my head rest on top of some of the paper, deciding that the neck ache in the morning would be worth it. Exhaustion had too tight a hold on me for me to argue with the idea of getting even a light nap.

When I woke later, my head was laying on something soft, and I was disoriented. I could have sworn my head was resting on the desk when I'd nodded off. I turned onto my back and squinted my eyes, looking around me. I was on Shay's bed, blanketed in the heavy sheets and covers. It appeared to still be night, and Shay was seated at his desk. He was still looking through the documents.

All signs pointed to the same thing: Shay had tucked me into his bed. He cast a look over at me.

"Didn't think a wooden desk was very comfortable." He explained shortly.

I sat up. "It's your bed. You'll need it at some point, and I can go down to mine." I started to get up, but his voice stopped me.

"You've had a long couple of weeks, and I know those cots are about as comfortable as wooden boards. Go back to sleep." He said, not unkindly. I huffed and laid back down, turning on my side to look out the window.

"Fine. But don't blame me when you're cranky from sleep deprivation." I heard him snort at that. I fell back asleep to the sound of shuffling papers, and fell into a sleep that was both comfortable and restful.

When I woke just hours later, sun was streaming through the windows and we'd docked in the Boston harbor. I finally willed myself to get up, and felt a glimmer of annoyance that Shay was still very much awake, and still very much busy with the paper covering his desk.

I walked over to him. "I'm going to the tavern. Get some shut-eye before you keel over."

He gave me a tired smile. "I'll try not to fall asleep here." He returned to the documents, and I left for the tavern.

The day was bitter cold, flurries blew in the air and ice clung to every surface it could. Few people looked to be out and about, preferring the cozy warmth of their homes, businesses, and inns instead. It would have been difficult to blame them for as much, honestly.

The pier was slick, and I and the few sailors on it were doing our best not to fall on our asses or into the water. I managed to make it to the safety of the streets with some struggling. As I walked, I cast my eyes around to take in the people.

Those that were out were either guards, commonfolk keeping their heads down, or bitter citizens glaring at the men swathed in crimson. The revolution was brewing in front of everyone's eyes, that much I knew. Though how it would end with the things I was making happen, none would be able to say until the end.

As I stepped around a corner, I was suddenly hyperaware of the fact that tomorrow was the day Stephane would kill the tax man. I hurried the rest of the way. When I reached the tavern, I wasted no time in climbing the stairs and joining Haytham and Connor at the table. Haytham looked up at me.

"You're later than I was expecting."

"Some things happened, we can talk about them later." I said dismissively. I glanced between them both. They weren't quite comfortable, but they were enjoying some breakfast together, peacefully sipping on tea in between bites. "So, is tomorrow going the way we planned?"

"Yes. You and I will accompany Stephane to ensure his safety, while my father attends to business here." Connor looked the slightest bit cross as he said the last part. No doubt he suspected Haytham simply wanted to stay out of harm's way. I knew better. It struck me as odd that I knew Haytham better than his own son did, though it was understandable; I'd been around Haytham much more than Connor had. Though, even that felt a bit odd.

"Afterwards, we will meet here again to discuss other matters." Haytham added.

I retrieved some food to eat for breakfast and joined them, sitting by Connor so we could speak in hushed voices about our plans for tomorrow.

"He knows you, so it'd be best for you to be on the ground with him. I'll cover you two from above."

"If you believe that to be best. Where would we meet you after all is done?"

"I'll come to you. It's easier that way, just in case something doesn't go according to plan."

"Do you believe the guards will make themselves an issue after…?"

"Maybe. Hard to say. I guess we'll find out."

We continued to discuss the specifics of the plan. I'd make a joke now and then, and either Connor wouldn't understand it and I would explain it, or he would give me little more than a snort and a dry reply. We had few arguments, most of which circled around my awful jokes and how they were entirely pointless. Haytham watched us from the other side of the table, a thoughtful look on his face, though he said nothing.

That morning was so tranquil, so peaceful, that I'd almost call it domestic-if it weren't for the fact that Connor and I'd been planning about how to help someone kill a man.


	50. Chapter 47: You Don't Have to Go Back

After we both agreed that we'd talked about everything we needed to, Connor excused himself, claiming he had some errands he needed to run around the city.

I looked to Haytham.

"You two seem to be getting along better than before." I commented.

"Marginally. He's still stubborn and naive, letting that old fool Achilles' words blind him to the truth." He rolled his shoulders, trying to get a knot out, no doubt.

I snickered. "That's funny, because he reminds me a lot of you."

"How?" His nose scrunched up in confusion.

"You're both unbelievably thick-skulled, kind of arrogant, brash, and neither of you appreciate my quality comedic endeavors." I counted off each quality on my fingers as I named them.

He scoffed. "That's hardly enough to call us similar."

"There's more, but I'm just leaving it at those four for the time being." I grinned.

He rolled his eyes. We sat in silence for a few moments. He looked back towards me curiously. "You mentioned something happened while you were out with Shay. What?"

I chewed on my lip. "We found something regarding the thing that brought me here. Or, at least, something like it."

His eyes widened. "What exactly did you find?"

"A letter detailing what appears to be someone picking up the object and disappearing. Which is exactly what happened to me." I said.

He was quiet for a moment. "Did it say anything about whether it was left behind?"

"It was just as gone as the man who touched it was." I replied.

"Interesting…" A look of deep thought was on his face for a good minute. "And it matched what you remember happening to you?"

I nodded. "While I can't tell what it must've looked like to those around me, it sounds pretty much the same."

"Do you want us to look into the matter further?" A question that I hadn't expected.

"Look… into…?" My mouth struggled to get words out, and my mind was blank.

"Yes, to see if we can locate the artifact and possibly learn how we may return you to your time, if you so wish." His expression gave away nothing, and he spoke emotionlessly.

I swallowed. "Aren't we a bit busy as is?"

"If you wish to return to your time, we'll have to look for it. It seems to be elusive, and finding information about it, much less the object itself, will be difficult. It would be best to start early if we wish to find it." Again, his tone was flat. Why was he doing that now?

"I…" Thoughts were flooding into my mind all of a sudden, the same ones I'd had on that shipwreck, that I'd struggled with in Shay's cabin. "I don't know."

Haytham inhaled sharply. "You don't know?"

"I… well, we're just so busy and-"

"Courtney." His voice was tense. "Stop." He knew me too well for me to lie to his face. I breathed deeply for a few seconds.

After a moment of straightening out my thoughts-tangled and overwhelming though they still were-, I started speaking. "I don't know if I want to go back anymore."

His gaze was about as heavy as the thoughts weighing on my mind. "Why?"

It took a few seconds for me to get the words out. "There's a lot of good things in my time. Things I wouldn't mind having again." _Air conditioning, heating, medicine, clean water, better hygiene, electricity, internet. The list goes on. And yet…_ "But, I've been here a year. And… and I'm a lot happier than I ever was back in my time. I don't have to deal with…" I trailed off, not sure I wanted to talk about what had plagued me since my childhood.

But Haytham didn't want to let it drop. "With what?"

I swallowed again, harder this time because I was trying to keep my voice steady and push down another emotional outburst like the one on the shipwreck. "With my family. My mother." My gaze dropped to the table as my fists clenched. "She always turned shit around so that it was _my_ fault. Insulted me. Blamed me for things _she_ did, made me be the adult of the house when I was a fucking child. I didn't get to even play with other kids 'til I was, what? Eight? And only then because I'd made friends in school. And my dad? My dad was hardly ever there. And when he was? He was fucking afraid of saying a word against her because he knew she'd yell at him."

Haytham didn't say a word, and simply sat there, listening, as I continued. "I didn't get to go outside most of the time, I didn't get help learning things-" My voice quivered with sardonic laughter. "I- I had to teach myself _everything_. Everything except for archery- and my dad's the one who taught me that. I taught myself to read, to write, to do math and science, I taught myself history, how to cook, how to do laundry, how use basic things that I would've needed later in life. She got pissy whenever I learned things like that, started getting even worse and insulting me and yelling at me and complaining about me to other people more." I lowered my head further, not wanting him to see the way my face was twisted with emotion. "I had to do _everything_ for myself. And she _still_ wasn't happy." My voice cracked, and I willed back the tears in my eyes.

The sound of a chair sliding against floor reached my ears, and then footsteps rounded the table. Haytham stood me up and led me to his room, closing the door behind us. I didn't say it, but I was thankful he hadn't let me cry in front of anyone. My brain screamed at me to stop as it was, and prying eyes would've made it worse.

"Courtney." He said quietly. A glance up at him revealed his expression had softened. "You don't have to go back. You have a choice. You can stay here, if you want."

I didn't know what to say, so I just nodded. A moment of me sniffling and Haytham simply looking at me ended with a small, weak question from me. "Is it okay if… if I hug you?"

Surprise flashed across his face for a second, then arms wrapped around me. It felt weird, like he wasn't quite used to physical contact like this, but I was grateful for it. Instincts that had been built by years of emotional neglect screeched at me to push the Grandmaster away.

Silencing the part of me that begged to be left alone, I tightened my grip on Haytham.


	51. Chapter 48: Let's Start a Riot

The next morning was hectic. A night spent in the small inn Connor and I stayed at had left the day previous feeling like a dream, and the bustle of the next day wasn't something I'd entirely prepared myself for.

Connor woke me, then I dressed, ate, and followed him out in twenty minutes. Our footsteps pounded on stone, dirt, wood, and rooftops alike, quietly echoing but unnoticed by passersby as we hurried toward where Connor said Stephane would likely be.

As we grew closer, the sound of shouting drifted to our ears: cursing in both English and French alike. Connor and I glanced at each other. We came to a stop on a roof above where Stephane stormed down the street, incensed and fully prepared to start a riot. Connor looked at me, and with a single nod from me, he dropped down.

It was impossible to hear Connor's soft voice from the height I was at, though Stephane's carried up to me with ease.

His passionate ranting continued on and on, providing little difficulty in tracking him and Connor. The latter did his best to quell the frenchman's fury, but the yells still attracted a small group of the familiar red-clad men patrolling the city. Three fell before they got near Connor and Stephane, arrows from above dispatching them one at a time. The rest were taken by surprise, and easily dispatched by a cleaver and tomahawk.

While the sight of death was still strange to me, my breakfast remained in my stomach- unlike back in July. Stephane took a moment to accost the people around them, and a few trailed after when he resumed his march. Connor looked to me, seemingly frustrated with the man's quest for blood. We followed him down the streets of Boston.

An hour passed the same way, and then another fifteen minutes. Stephane would lead the way, angrily declaring the wrongs of the taxation placed on the colonists. Connor and I would prevent the guards from ending his tirades, and slowly, slowly, more people followed him. Their cheers only served to emphasize the words spilling forth from Stephane's mouth, and people began to make space for the two of them long before they'd been seen. Red was left running in the streets, and it barely showed on the uniforms of the dead.

Finally, Stephane pointed at a man, and rushed at him. The man tried to escape the swinging cleaver, but he wasn't nearly fast enough. Instead of watching, my eyes darted around, watching for the guards that would doubtless be on their way to arrest Stephane. I ran out of arrows and had to fall back on my pistol for the last two. After the butchering of the tax collector, people began to dissipate, unwilling to be around when more guards showed up. Connor approached Stephane, saying something to him, and they made their way out of the square that now held only a bloody mess.

When they were a safe distance from the square, they ascended to the rooftops.

"I would like you to meet a friend of mine. She assisted us today, providing cover from the roofs." I heard Connor say.

"If she is a friend of yours, she is a friend of mine. Now, where is she?" Asked Stephane. My feet hit the tiles on the same roof they stood on, and I approached them. Connor nodded at me.

"This is Courtney." Connor introduced me.

"Pleasure to meet you." I smiled. "Nice job, by the way. That sure as hell got everyone's attention."

Stephane reached out a hand, which I took and shook. "That was the idea. These British bastards think they have the right to steal from us, and expect us to sit by idly. But no longer, I say!" His grip was firm, and he was enthusiastic about it. He was shaking a little-no doubt adrenaline was still running through his veins.

Connor spoke up. "We work for groups that would see this injustice ended. We believe that you would be helpful in reaching our goals."

Stephane seemed delighted. "If they would have this done away with, I would gladly offer any service I can. Who are these groups?"

"My own is a group known as the Assassins, we strive for freedom, justice, and liberty, the same as the people of the colonies." Connor said, casting a glance over at me.

"And the other?" Stephane turned to look at me.

"The Templars. We work to bring order, direction-justice, like the Assassins. We wish to see a new nation born from the revolution brewing here, and to forge it into something better than what currently is. Our goals are not unlike those of the Assassins, we simply have different means of reaching them." My reply was much wordier than Connor's, a consistency with the two of us.

Stephane pursed his lips. "Which would you have me join?"

Connor and I spoke at the same time. "The Assassins." We glanced at each other.

"Your skills and beliefs are more in line with theirs, I think. You would better serve both sides by working as one of them." I said, choosing my words carefully.

Stephane nodded, mostly to himself. "I see. Then I will join the Assassins, and we will all work together to end the tyranny of King George!" I grinned. His eagerness was refreshing-I was almost sad he wouldn't be joining the Templars.

Stephane insisted on buying us drinks, though we both declined-Connor didn't often drink in general, and I needed to report back to Haytham. Stephane made us swear to join him at some point, and we agreed. Connor and I traveled back towards the tavern together, making small talk here and there.

"So, this was a good day-well, maybe not good because a lot of people died, but good in terms of progress." I commented as we jumped over a fence.

"Yes." He grunted as we ran up a wall. "I am curious as to why you believe building up the Assassins would be beneficial for the Templars."

He pulled me up with one hand. Spirits, he was strong. "I've been keeping my idea of our sides working together long-term in mind. I was kinda thinking we could make a system that..." I shrugged and made wavy motions with my hands. "Well, hon, it's kinda hard to explain, since a lot of it is kinda based on how the American government in my time was set up."

"How was it set up? Is there not something like it now?" He was always curious about things. Sparking his curiosity was one of the few things that would make him speak more often than he usually did.

I took a deep breath. "It's complicated to explain it all, but to sum it up, the power was divided between the federal level and the state level. The state level consisted of fifty regions, each of which was governed by the people who lived there. The federal level made decisions for all fifty states, though it didn't have complete and total power over everything the states did." I waved my hand. "Like I said, it's kinda hard for me to explain. I was thinking that we could work together similarly to the way that government did, limiting what each other could do to ensure a balance between order and freedom." I paused. "I don't have all the details yet, but I know they'll be figured out in time."

Connor considered it for a moment. "You truly believe it is possible for our orders to coexist, to cooperate, in peace?" He said slowly.

A sad smile and a few words were all I could offer him. "I have to hope it is."

We parted ways. It was still light out, though Haytham needed me to check in as soon as possible. The day was young, and anything I intended to do later could wait. Not that I'd intended to do much.

The conversation with Haytham was brief, and mainly involved me detailing what I'd seen happen. He listened patiently, encouraging me not to gloss over even inane details, just as he had when I'd returned from courier or thieving missions. He wrote a few details down, and we were done. Just as I was turning, his voice stopped me.

"Courtney," He said. "Do you think…" He trailed off.

"Do I think what?" I prodded.

"Do you think Connor hates me?" He blurted out.

It took me a second to respond. "What brings this up?"

His eyes were directed everywhere but my own. "I… The alliance depends on our getting along, and I'm worried about the fate of the order-"

"Haytham, that's bullshit." I interrupted.

He stared at me, a bit offended I'd so rudely cut him off. "Pardon?"  
"Look, this is obviously something more personal. And, honestly? That's fine, you're human and you have a right to have emotions, no matter if you're Grandmaster or not. If it's bothering you, then it's worth talking about." My words earned me more of his staring. "Besides, you did the same for me yesterday. Now, just tell me what the actual problem is, okay? I'm the last person you should be lying to, remember? I read your journal."

A few moments passed, and he eventually sighed. "I'm… I'm worried that he holds some things against me. What happened to Ziio, his village, what is currently going on. And it doesn't help that Achilles has no doubt been filling his head with lies about me." I sat down beside him.

"Well, he probably kind of does blame you, since you're in charge of the men he holds responsible for that. _I_ know you weren't entirely aware of how the attack on his village was handled by your men, but Connor doesn't know as much as I do about your life. You need to talk to him, ask him these things yourself. I know a lot about you two, but I don't know everything." I explained. The thought that I was becoming a family counselor ran through my head, and I had to stifle a snort.

"But how? How do I bring up things he clearly doesn't want to think about, much less discuss? If I say one wrong thing, it could botch things up entirely! I…" His head dropped, held in his hands. "I just want him to understand."

Haytham was struggling with trying to be a father to a guy that was mostly grown, who'd basically been told by those whose directions he followed-Achilles and Juno, mostly-that his father was a monster. It couldn't be easy. My scarred hand reached out, hesitated, then laid on one of his arms. His eyes peered at me, more tired than they'd ever looked before.

"Give it time-and effort. Things will change, for better or worse." My words didn't sound very useful to me, but then, they weren't for me. Haytham nodded at me.

"You should go, inform Connor of our plans for the next event. See if he can assist. Stay with him." My hand dropped and I stood, walking to leave. His voice stopped me again. "And, let's keep this conversation between us, alright?"

I nodded, and left.


	52. Chapter 49: Plotting and Pet Names

It seemed like the moment I set foot into the street, wind and snow were whipping at me from all sides. My face stung from the sheer force of the small flakes of frozen water, and my legs struggled against the wind. My eyes squinted against the force of the violent breeze. It took twice as much time as usual for me to reach the small inn, and it was a struggle to try to force the door closed. A pair of large hands appeared next to mine, and the door finally shut.

"Thanks, Connor." I sighed.

He nodded. "Of course. Has my father said anything?"

I shrugged off my coat, which was beginning to feel wet as the layer of snow that had stuck to it melted. How annoying. "He wants to know if you'll be able to assist with the next plan." The garment was left hanging by the fire, my hope being that it would be dry before tomorrow.

"What does it involve?" He asked as we moved to the table we'd come to think of as ours.

I plopped down in my chair much less gracefully than he did. "We'll be moving a large amount of tea to a ship before the colonists can dump it all. We'll be replacing it with crates stuffed with weeds and grass, so as to-hopefully-elicit the same response the original version of events did. As long as they don't actually look inside the boxes, it should all go well." A serving girl came over to us, and took off to make and bring us an early lunch- _dinner_ , I reminded myself. "You have the _Aquila_ under your command, right?" I asked.

"Yes." He eyed me. "You wish for me to carry some of the tea."

"While the ship we have right now could work, it would be crowded, and might be unsafe for the sailors. We were going to use another ship as well, but the captain was needed elsewhere." My arms crossed, hands rubbing my upper arms for warmth. Nicholas Biddle was going to help us in our endeavor, but Haytham had sent him away three months ago to take care of some business. The _Morrigan_ was all we had at the moment, and though a force to be reckoned, she only had so much room.

"You have said that if William Johnson buys my people's land, it will be safe. How do I know that he and the others will not take advantage of it the way you claim the colonists would?" He pressed, as he had all the other times this had been brought up.

"I can't really offer you any substantial evidence that they won't, but if nothing else, they will be allowed to live there." I stopped when the serving girl brought us our meal, and thanked her in a tone a bit too cheery for the conversation I was about to resume. I waited until she was out of earshot before speaking again. "In the timeline I recall, your people, and many other indigenous groups, were forced off their land onto reservations. The conditions were pitiful, and it seemed like no one was doing anything to help the people stuck there."

Fists clenched and jaw working, Connor thought about what I'd said. "But why?"

"Population growth, darling. Americans had more babies, and those babies grew into more Americans. And the cycle just repeated. Space was too tight, and they needed land for living, and agriculture, and more babies. Wouldn't be any problems with it, if there hadn't already been entire nations living there." I shoved food in my mouth when I finished speaking.

He poked at his food, speaking lowly. "How can this be avoided?"

The leather of my gloves ran along the handle of the simple fork I was using. "Population control, laws and restrictions on westward expansion being set, laws protecting natives from violence on the basis of discrimination and greed, more agreeable arrangements being made. There's probably more. A lot of it requires massive political sway to accomplish-which the Templars have, and the Assassins don't."

"Which is why you believe it is best that we work together." An assertion, not an inquiry.

"Bingo, babe." He made a face at the pet name.

"I see." He was quiet for a while. "Why do you refer to me with terms such as that?" He asked.

I looked up, forced down the mouthful of food I'd been chewing. "Oh, uh, I guess it's just a habit? You're closer to my age and I used to use pet names with people I liked back in my time." I paused. "I can stop, if you would like."

He mused for a moment, picking at the bread in his hand. "These are terms you use with friends?"

I nodded. "I used a lot more, too, but some wouldn't make sense in this time."

He pondered it for a moment more. "I suppose it would not cause any harm for you to continue. Though, I would appreciate you not using them when we are among others."

"Sure thing, sweetie." I grinned. He shook his head at the pet name. Our meal was eaten in comfortable silence.


	53. Chapter 50: Downtime

Before we went our separate ways for the day-which would really just be us retiring to our rooms due to the weather outside-, Connor stopped me in the hallway.

"I will be leaving early tomorrow for the homestead-to retrieve the _Aquila_. Would you like to accompany me?" He asked.

"Of course. I assume we'll be going by horse?" I asked.

"Yes, although this time it would be wise to stick to the roads. If the weather keeps up, it will make venturing beyond them dangerous if you are not experienced." He had a point. Basic survival skills were something I'd learned over time by virtue of my father's attempts at hunting trips and some information other Templars had given me here and there. Though, it was doubtful that Thomas' recipe for moonshine would be of much use in surviving a winter storm.

The rest of the day passed slowly, wind howling outside and snow obscuring sight for anything more than a couple meters in front of a person. Coffee was a welcome companion to me throughout the day, warming me up and making my leg bounce as I read.

* * *

Night fell before I left the room in search of food. Connor was already seated, his hood down for once while he sharpened a knife. He nodded to me when I took my seat.

"I assumed you would be out soon and ordered for you as well. I hope that is alright." He said.

"Yeah, it's cool." I replied.

He looked at me oddly. "'Cool?'"

I chuckled at my little slip up. "It's slang where I come from. It's kinda like… well it has multiple meanings. It's used as a synonym for 'good', 'great', 'nice'-basically things that are positive."

"Oh." His fingers played over the edge of the knife. "Do you intend to return some day?" At his question, a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan left me. He started to apologize in confusion, but I stopped him with a tired smile.

"I've just been dealing with that question a lot. Not your fault." I reassured. "But, it's safe to say that I won't be going back for quite a while, if ever."

"Do you like it better here?" He asked.

I smiled wider. "It's… it feels more right, I guess. Even if it is weird to know of things that don't exist. Yet."

He nodded in response. "I can imagine." The knife flipped in his hand with the slightest movement in his wrist. He seemed to rethink what he'd said. "Or, maybe not."

I snickered. "Your attempt at sympathy is appreciated."

An eyebrow was raised at me. "I am sure it is, alongside other things." The tiniest quirk at the side of his mouth was the only hint I had that he was joking.

"Unbelievable. You're an old man compared to me. Beautiful young folk like me don't deserve this kind of treatment." I crossed my arms, leaning back.

"'Beautiful young folk' like yourself seem to believe old men like myself are attractive." His attention was directed towards the knife and whetstone in his hands. My eyes rolled exasperatedly to hide the blush creeping on my cheeks.

"Okay, so I made passes at you a couple times. Big deal." I said.

"You have been flirting with me nearly as long as we have known each other." A glimmer of humor was in his eyes, though he still didn't look at me.

"That… I can't even argue with that. That's not fair." I muttered the last part.

He snorted. "It is a shame, then, that you put yourself in this situation."

As a serving girl brought over two plates, I was groaning. "I can't believe you of all people are doing this," I complained. "I'm a good person, I don't deserve this."

"You enjoy it." He said before we began to eat. The meal passed in a pleasant quietness. Our only other words to each other that day were goodnights, as we crawled back to our rooms for the last time in a while.

* * *

The next morning passed in a flash, as did the days after. The storm seemed to vanish by our second day on the road, and we began traveling faster-the worry of becoming lost in the forest was absent now, as Connor knew the area better than quite possibly anyone else.

A good foot of snow had piled up, and Antony seemed to dislike it as much as the mare Connor was riding. The poor things.

Our nights were spent huddled close to the fire one of us would build, sleeping bags drawn around us as we munched on whatever provisions we'd dug out of our packs. While conversation between us was sparse, we weren't as tense as we had been the first couple of road trips we'd been on together. When we did talk, I could sometimes manage to goad a more humorous side out of him. He never quite smiled, though that little quirk would always appear at the corner of his lips.


	54. Chapter 51: The Aquila

Two days passed, and on the third, we finally reached the homestead. Antony and the mare Connor had ridden were stowed away in the stables, and then Connor and I hurried into the warm manor.

Achilles was sitting at the desk in the financing room, and looked up when we walked in.

"How did it go?" He asked, setting down the quill and standing. He made his way over to us, pointedly focusing on Connor and not me.

"Stephane has agreed to join the Assassins, and will be coming here for additional training some time in the next few months." Connor responded. "Work for peace between us and the Templars is… slow."

Achilles snorted as he moved past us. "And you thought it would be any other way? Peace, much less _unity_ between us and them is unlikely at best. If there is to be any sort of cooperation between us, it will be a very long time in the making."

Connor's eyebrows drew together, and the beginnings of a sneer showed on his lips. He followed after Achilles. "If we do not begin somewhere, it will never be made." He continued talking, and the sound of their bickering followed me to the room I'd stayed in last time I was here. My bag hit the floor. My arms reached above my head in a stretch. With a sigh, I slumped down on the couch, arms falling to lay wide on either side of its back.

Two hours worth of dozing off later, rapping on the doorway snapped my attention to Connor, who stood in said doorway.

"Did I wake you?" He asked.

Satisfying pops sounded when I rolled my neck. "Not really. I was just nodding off." My voice was heavy with sleepiness. "You need something?"

"I wanted to let you know that I will be preparing the _Aquila_ for travel." He opened his mouth without speaking a couple times before he continued. "You are welcome to come with me if you would like."

Technically, I was supposed to stay with him. And it wasn't like a few hours of sleep wouldn't be up for grabbing later. I stood and nodded at him. "Let's see if your ship beats the _Morrigan_."

We used the trees to get there. Trudging through the deep snow seemed an undesirable alternative. Our feet hit the snow at the same time, and he led us over towards the ship.

She was bigger than the _Morrigan_. I'd already known that, but it seemed like stepping onto an elephant after getting used to a horse. Some of the crewmen glanced over at me, curious about the nicely dressed stranger Connor had brought on board.

"Connor!" An excited, aged voice called. A glance at the quarterdeck revealed the speaker to be Faulkner. He caught sight of me and cast a quizzical look at Connor as we approached him.

"Her name is Courtney. We will be working with her in the coming weeks." Connor explained.

Faulkner looked me up and down. "She seems a bit... " He floundered for a word for a moment. "Out of place, for our usual ventures, doesn't she?"

I rolled my eyes as Connor replied. "This will not be what we consider 'usual'. We will be carrying cargo for a night or so, and she will be with us."

Faulkner's brow furrowed. "What kind of cargo? Has to be important for us to be carrying it."

"Tea." Connor answered.

"...Tea?" Faulkner repeated.

"Tea." I said.

A moment passed. "Tea?" He asked again.

"Tea." Connor and I said in unison.

Faulkner's face bunched up in confusion. "Why tea?"

"Some men will be coming along on the 16th with the intention of dumping all the cargo in the harbor. We'll be taking it out to sea alongside another ship." I explained.

He sighed after a moment of deliberation. "If you insist." He muttered something else about it being a boring change of pace under his breath.

"Greg!" The sheer volume of Connor's voice made me flinch violently. Damn, his voice was loud when he wanted it to be.

A boy a couple years younger than Connor and I scrambled up the stairs towards us. "Yes, Captain?"

Connor's voice, thankfully, was back at it's regular, soft level. My ears were grateful. "Courtney will be staying with us for a few days. Show her to the room we usually lend out to guests." The boy nodded eagerly and I followed him.

"S-so, you work with the captain?" The boy-Greg-asked.

"For now. I want us to work together in the future, too, but we're testing the waters right now." I replied.

"Oh." His gaze was directed towards the floor as we descended into the hold. "So, what do you do?"

"A lot of stuff. Maybe I'll tell you someday." I smiled at him. He just nodded, a nervous air about him as he led me to the room.

It wasn't much. Slightly more roomy than the one on the _Morrigan_ - _slightly_ -, but mostly the same otherwise. A rectangular window high up on the wall likely offered a nice view, but I wasn't tall enough to make use of it. It was less suffocatingly extravagant than the posh room back at Haytham's manor-more to my taste, honestly.

My small word of thanks to Greg sent him scurrying off to fulfil whatever other duties he had on the ship. A moment of contemplation left me wanting to explore the ship. A couple hours worth of investigation revealed the locations of the major areas of the ship: galley, well-deck, crew's quarters, supply rooms, gun-deck. It was impressive, much more spacious than the _Morrigan_. The crew was friendly enough, aside from the few that cast me glances- " _A woman on a ship? If that isn't bad luck…"_. Though, it didn't quite feel as… homey as the _Morrigan_. Not to me.

I hurried up top, where Faulkner and Connor directed some of the crew in loading the ship with supplies. Connor looked at me as I sidled up to him.

"Nice ship. She's a bit big, but I'm probably a little biased." I commented.

"I am sure." He said.

"You want me to get my stuff and haul it down here now? Not like I'm doing anything else." My arms crossed.

"If you would like. We will likely not depart until tomorrow morning, though it would be better to be prepared as soon as possible." He looked over and shouted an order at a man, causing me to once again flinch at the sound. He looked at me sheepishly. "Sorry."

"No biggie, if I start losing my hearing, I'll make you pay any associated medical expenses, though." I smiled. "Anyway, see you later." I made my way off the ship, and headed towards the trees. No way in hell was I going to inconvenience myself by struggling through the snow.

My heart leaped when I nearly ran into Achilles after opening the door. "Shit-! Sorry, sorry, didn't know you were there." My eyes skimmed over him, trying to determine whether or not I'd harmed him in some way.

He waved it off. "Not like I'm not used to it. I've lost count of how many times that boy has nearly killed me by bursting in out of nowhere." I nodded, then the awkwardness of how our previous encounters had gone set in.

He moved to walk into the next room, though I stopped him. "Hey, um, Achilles…" He looked at me with a somewhat irritated expression.

My attempts to find the perfect wording were cut short with his voice, laced with impatience. "Well, spit it out. We haven't got all day."

I swallowed my pride. "I wanted to apologize. For how I acted those few weeks ago. It was pretty uncalled for and I noticed how you and Connor have been kinda…" I searched for the right word. "-Frustrated? With each other, I mean. And I didn't really intend for that to happen. So um, I'm sorry." My eyes didn't dare look at him directly, instead jumping around and taking in the details of the hallway. The floorboard in particular were very nice.

He scoffed. "You think that's the worst I've heard in my life?" I looked up at him confusedly. "You young people are all the same, always so brash and ready to do things you'll regret. You, Connor, Shay-when he was younger. Connor would have found out eventually, I suppose, if he's going to work with the Templars." He paused, a look of aggravation on his face. He didn't think peace was a viable option, still. The expression passed. "Though, my impression of you being more respectful than the boy was apparently wrong. A pity."

I stared after him as he continued to walk. "So-"

An annoyed sigh left him. "Damnit, what is it now?"

I shrunk back a bit. "Um, does- does this mean we're… alright?"

He examined me for a moment. "We're far from being friends, but that doesn't mean I'm going to kill you in your sleep, if that's what you're asking."

His footsteps carried into his room, and a moment passed before I climbed the stairs to retrieve my things.

I decided I'd still be watching my words, if not my step, around Achilles from then on.


	55. Chapter 52: Preparations

The next day came quickly, and we embarked for Boston. It took us mere hours to reach Boston harbor; we docked not far from where the _Morrigan_ was. Connor left Faulkner to caring to the ship, and the two of us made our way to Shay's vessel.

I walked onto the deck of the smaller ship, much more at home here than on the larger _Aquila_.

"Hey! Any of you seen the big guy?" I loudly asked the crew. One jabbed a thumb towards the captain's cabin. I nodded at him and led Connor over there.

I opened the door and peeked in. Shay sat at his desk, and looked up. Mild annoyance flashed across his face.

"Most people knock before they walk into another person's room." He said.

"Knock, knock." I said flatly, walking into the cabin.

Connor stood in the doorway, one hand holding the door open. Shay nodded to him, indicating it was alright for him to come in. He did so cautiously, seeming to take in every bit of the room as quickly as he could.

"Connor's being an absolute sweetheart and helping us carry the tea with his ship." I said, looking over Shay's shoulder to see him writing down expenses for supplies.

Shay looked from me to Connor. "It's appreciated."

Connor nodded. "If it proves to be an error on my part, you and your brothers will not live to regret it for long."

Shay's eyes narrowed. "Understood." He turned to me. "You want us to get started now?"

The idea was tossed around in my head for a moment. "No, not yet. Someone might notice and catch on if we start too soon. We'll wait until… one, _maybe_ two days prior, then load them during the night. We'll replace each crate with one of the decoys, and hope no one takes too much notice. "

"We'll have to work fast then. I'll clue the crew in on the 14th to be ready for some heavy-lifting." Shay said. A heavy silence fell on us.

"So... " I broke the silence. They both looked at me. "This is where we go our separate ways for the day, right?" I clasped my hands together in front of me.

The two men nodded. Connor dipped his head to Shay, and the latter returned the gesture. Connor led the way out with me trailing behind. We went back to the _Aquila_ , and retreated to his cabin. Mostly because if we ended up discussing anything relevant to upcoming events, we preferred to be away from prying ears.

An hour passed, the both of us mostly perusing the books found on a shelf in the nice room. Unbidden, a thought came into my mind and wouldn't go away.

"Hey, Connor?" I asked, looking over the top of the book in my hands-an atlas, a finely illustrated piece, really.

He hummed, and I took a second to wonder whether I should really ask. My curiosity got the better of me.

"So, like, I know some people have… a sixth sense, I guess? I mean, I know it as eagle vision, but I'm not sure if everyone calls it that." I started. Dark eyes tore themselves away from a green-covered book, fixing themselves on me. I kept talking. "Well, I've seen you… do a thing a couple times, where your eyes flicker and turn gold." My hands set the atlas down and moved up, framing my eyes for emphasis.

He raised an eyebrow. "And?" He prompted.

"Well, you see people in colors, right? Red, white, gold, blue…" I trailed off, hands falling to my lap.

"Yes." A moment of silence passed. "What is it you are trying to ask?"

"Well, I was just wondering-and you really don't have to say if you don't want to-about that, and what color you see me as?" My words weren't terribly confident. I wasn't entirely sure if I wanted to know the answer.

He examined me for a moment. Finally, he spoke. "The first time, you were white." He paused. "The second, you were blue."

My eyes met his. "What about now?"

He seemed to deliberate on whether or not he should humor me, then his eyes turned gold, and then back to brown. "Blue, again."

"Neato!" I grinned. He quirked an eyebrow at the word.

"The vocabulary in your time is… interesting?" The way he phrased the sentence made it sound more like a question than a comment.

I snorted. "You're just old."

He scoffed. "And just how old are you?"

"17, turned that way on the 10th of July." I replied.

His nose scrunched up in annoyance. "I am three months older than you."

"Yes, but older still." I said cheekily.

The only response I was given was a frustrated groan.


	56. Chapter 53: Tea Party

When 16 December rolled around, I was busy running from ship to ship, giving advice and carrying information between Shay and Connor. Under the moonlight, sailors of both crews carried crates from the merchant ships onto the _Aquila_ and the _Morrigan_ , and replaced them with identical crates-filled with chopped grass and leaves as opposed to tea. It'd cost someone something to have that done, but it had to be cheaper for packaged grass to be destroyed than the expensive, imported stuff we were trying to save. Gods willing, the patriots would be too busy throwing it in the harbor too notice the difference.

Things were going smoothly. The few pedestrians out at this hour were discouraged from investigating by the soldiers patrolling the area and standing guard at different roads, courtesy of a combination of Pitcairn's and Lee's work.

Finally, Shay stopped me with the final message of that night.

"This is the last of the tea. After this, we'll be heading out. Stay with Connor, make sure he brings the tea back in when we do." He said,

"Aye, aye, captain." I mock saluted him. He shot a wry smile at me, then went back to directing the men milling about.

It was a short distance to the _Aquila_ , just enough that I had been forced into courier-duty. After jumping from masts, posts, and piers, I hit the deck and rolled, shooting up and sauntering up to Connor. He was dressed in the dark blue robes of his captain's outfit, tricorn perched atop his head. It struck me that he looked an awful lot like his father in the color. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

"Shay said we're about done. When he pulls out of dock, we follow." I informed him. He nodded.

"You will be with us, then?" He asked.

"Seems that way. Lucky you." I responded.

He ignored my comment, and proceeded to start ordering the men around us to finish up what they were doing.

I was perched on the railing near the wheel by the time the _Morrigan_ 's silhouette moved out towards the open water, and Connor strode up the steps. We left the dock quickly, following after the other ship. When we were a ways out, the red of most of the soldiers' uniforms vanished into the alleyways of the city. Some remained-keeping up the premise of guarding the ships.

Eventually, we were too far to see what was going on ashore. The two ships bobbed in the water, not doing much aside from waiting for daybreak.

"I still have my doubts that this will help my people-that William Johnson buying the land we live upon will truly help us keep it." Connor said quietly.

I turned my gaze to him. "You may want to have a word with them between now and 11 July. A suggestion from you might sway them to be a little more cooperative than they were in my timeline."

"So that our land may be sold for less than it is worth?" He retorted.

"So that William doesn't get impatient and resort to force after hours or days worth of arguing over price." I said grimly.

Connor bit back a heated reply and was quiet for a moment. "You are certain that the Templars will help them? That, regardless of anything else, my people will be safe under their watch?"

I shrugged weakly. "All I know is that the way things went, they'd lost it all by the end. At least this way… this way they might keep at least _something_."

A sour look crossed his face. "We deserve to keep it all."

"Yeah, you do." I agreed.

We fell silent, and the night passed slowly. I dozed off a couple times, my head snapping back at creaks of the ship. I still hated the idea of being surrounded by so much water. Swimming hadn't been a part of my training, thus far. My heart still raced against my will each time I allowed my thoughts to drift to thoughts of just how easy it would be for a storm or particularly strong wave to leave us as nothing more than another haunted ship, just like the ones Shay and I had put to rest not that long ago.

A hand on my arm jolted me awake once in the night. My eyes fluttered open to reveal Connor looking at me with some caution, hand now held away from me.

"Sorry." He murmured. "I thought the railing might be uncomfortable. You are welcome to go below deck to sleep, if you wish."

I stretched and yawned. "Nah, I'm good. I'm keeping an eye on you."

"And doing a poor job of it." He said dryly.

"Hey, I didn't come here to be ridiculed by a guy in a funny hat." I retorted.

"And you came here to sleep on the floor?" He asked, an edge to his voice that I thought was something close to humorous.

Fake affection for the floor coated my voice as I spoke. "Maybe I did. Maybe I just like floors. All this quality hardwood, just waiting for me to sleep on it." I sighed wistfully, then straightened up. "Maybe I'm just bored."

A roll of his eyes. "You would not be the only one."

"Surprising." Was the last word I spoke that night. My eyes remained open, though my mind was hazy with the total peace out here. It was kind of nice, if not for the nagging fear of water that tugged at my chest every now and then. The full moon shone down, illuminating everything around us. Crewmembers could be seen moving on the _Morrigan_ , and light glinted off the gently rolling water. Time passed slowly, more so than I'd ever thought it could. Eventually, the light reflect off the water faded from a cool white to a soft orange.

Commotion was heard over on the _Morrigan_ , and she slowly began to move. We followed suit, and the ships were brought closer to the docks.

People lingered from what appeared to be last night's ruin of the "tea". Crates floated in the harbor, most still in one piece, as though the patriots had had little time to break them into pieces. Soldiers patrolled the harbor, viciously guarding the docks. Debris littered the piers, and a number of people were attempting to clean it up. Some soldiers directed their efforts.

Both the _Aquila_ and the _Morrigan_ docked away from the scene, where fewer people were lingering around. After a quick word with Connor, I was off toward the other ship. The tea would have to be delivered to another location, no doubt. The ships could only hold the cargo for so long before they were needed elsewhere.

"I assume you didn't waste it all by having a tea party or something of the sort?" I asked as I approached Shay.

"Actually, we used it all. Figured we could pay for it." He said, not looking at me. He kept his eyes on the men around us.

"Unbelievable." I replied. "I'll have to report back to the boss to see what everyone wants to do next. You gonna be here?"

He nodded. "I still have to work on some of those documents we recovered. I'll have to find someone who knows more Norwegian than I do for that journal."

"Nice, nice." I paused. "Of what you _have_ translated…"

"Haven't found anything else regarding the Piece of Eden. Might have been a one-time thing. I'm not sure." He glanced at me.

"Oh. Well, that's… I'm not sure how to feel about that." I stretched my arms above my head. "Right, so, I'm off to the Dragon, and I'll be back when we figure out what to do." I nudged him with my shoulder. "Don't do anything I'd wanna be here for."

He grinned at me and nudged me with his elbow. "We'll try to keep it down with our tea parties."

I snorted as I started towards the tavern.


	57. Chapter 54: Side Work

The next four months were about as exasperating as they were long. Negotiations resumed, primarily between Connor and Haytham, while Shay and I supervised. I say supervised, but we mostly drank and jumped in to interrupt when the Kenways began to bicker like children. Yule, Imbolc, and Ostara were the nicest days of all of those months; I used them as excuses to leave Shay alone with the Kenways while I took the day to celebrate-in private, of course. He wasn't as cheerful as I was any of those times.

While there was progress, a few glaring issues were in our focus still: William buying the land of the Kanien'kehá ka, Charles still being very much alive, how exactly we would work together after the war was over and the colonies were free of British rule, whether building up the Assassins and offering them assistance was worth the risk. All were debated heatedly for hours each day. New ideas would arise, be discussed, and be thrown aside when one party disliked them.

All in all, I was inclined to believe that diplomacy in situations such as these was quite possibly something I neither liked nor possessed much skill with, regardless of Shay's insistence that I was a calming force when in the room. Then again, maybe it was just the people involved that made it all seem so daunting.

Both Shay and I would be sent on missions-never at the same time. What Shay did was anyone's guess. I resumed my work as a courier-coming to be a close acquaintance of Abraham Crawley's-and thief, and began to be sent on missions to gather information. Only on two occasions was I sent to kill.

I'd grabbed Antony and set off after the first one at Haytham's command. A merchant in New York, closely associated with the man who had attempted to ambush Haytham last year. He'd been causing trouble for a member of the order for some time -another merchant, one who was assisting to provide funds for William in July- , intending to bring down his business regardless of what it took.

He wasn't very hard to locate-even less so to get alone. He was fond of visiting brothels, and it took no more than a quiet word with a woman at one to let me slip in as opposed to her. He put up a fight, and proved himself to be surprisingly strong when he snapped my bow. I would have apologized to the woman who'd let me in for the bloodstains, but I doubted she'd appreciate the gesture. He'd had two letters in his pockets. One, addressed to a mistress. The other, addressed to a man in Lexington, detailing plans regarding the Templar merchant. He became my next target. I ditched the broken bow in an alley, grabbed Antony, and made for Lexington.

It wasn't as easy to navigate around Lexington, and finding a place for Antony was nigh impossible. It was smaller than New York or Boston, and people learned my face quickly. Unsurprising, as I was still rather out of place; the short hair and pants weren't exactly the most inconspicuous for anyone but a man.

The man I'd come for was a farmer, one who had relied on the merchant I'd killed to sell his crops to people in New York. I befriended his wife, a lonely woman who was unable to have children. She lamented about it to me while I assisted her with household chores and kept her company.

When they were both out one day, I looked through the dresser in their room. I kept painfully quiet in case one might return to the house. I found a few letters to and from the deceased merchant, and concluded that the farmer had a grudge against the Templar merchant. His reason? He'd been dropped when he refused to take the cut of pay the Templar had offered.

I caught him alone inside the shed the next day. The only sound he made was a gurgling noise as he fell to the ground, bringing down a hoe and shovel along with him. I and Antony departed quietly before his wife returned to see the stab wound in his neck. I felt bad for the poor woman, really, so I left a sum of the money Haytham had lent - _given_ , as he'd never asked for it back- to help her for a while.

Apparently, that had been the extent of the business with the men who ambushed-or attempted to, rather-Haytham last summer. They'd connected him with the Templar merchant, and plotted to kill the two of them. A poorly thought-out plan, in the long run.

I returned to Boston

After I returned, I worked over several weeks with a bowyer in making a new bow. He was astounded by the designs I would bring in-ones that an archer in my time might recognize as Holmegaard, takedown, and cable-backed bows. It was a lot of fun to work alongside him, even with him batting my hands away any time I'd examine one of his tools or bows.

After a few failed prototypes, we struck success with an ambidextrous takedown recurve, fashioned out of black cherrywood and backed with hickory. He stained it a dark red, and created nocks out of black bull horn. I wrapped a long strip of blackened leather around the grip when I received it, and lightly carved discreet personal sigils into the belly and back alike.

I had to admit to liking it _far_ more than the old one. Despite this one being longer than I was tall when fully assembled, it was more comfortable to draw, with a smoother draw and heavier draw weight. Plus, if I decided I wanted more _umph_ later on, I could always just replace the limbs-better than buying a whole new bow. Easier to carry discreetly, when needed due to it not being one piece, too. Overall, it was much more practical than the longbow I'd been using.

Aside from all that and a few odd encounters during my ventures in espionage and theft, the few months passed slowly. Haytham and Connor still bickered left and right, and I was growing tired of them acting like children. As was Shay.

Making this work was harder than I'd originally thought it would be -and I'd already thought it would be hard.


	58. Chapter 55: Swimming Lessons

It was mid-April when Shay said he wanted him and I to go further inland for a week. Understandably, Connor and I were confused. Haytham, however, looked like he knew what was going on already.

"What would we possibly be doing that could be of any importance?" I asked incredulously.

"You're gonna learn how to swim." Shay said with a lazy grin on his face.

I wasn't as happy. "Okay, but why now? It can wait, can't it?"

Haytham chimed in. "You're on ships and around water enough that it's very much an issue. It would be a shame if you were to die because you slipped into a stream, wouldn't it?"

"It would be wise to learn." Connor said quietly, apparently on board with their plan, now that he'd heard it.

I sighed defeatedly. "When are we leaving?"

"Now." Shay said, standing and moving toward the stairs. It took a moment of staring after him for me to scramble to my room and grab my things. I hated it when I had such short notice. Especially on things like this.

We traveled for a day, and stopped by a small lake. We set our things to the side and tied our horses nearby. Then, he started peeling off his clothing.

I shifted uncomfortably. "So, do I have to… take _everything_ off?" I asked.

He cast a glance at me and shook his head. "You can keep your breeches and undershirt on."

"Well that's a relief." I muttered as I started to shrug off my coat.

When we stood in significantly less clothing than before-I in breeches and a thick undershirt, the sleeves of which I'd rolled up, and Shay in just the breeches-, Shay started talking again.

"So you have no experience whatsoever when it comes to swimming?" He asked.

I shrugged. "I've swam kinda, but I can't stay afloat for more than five seconds, and I panic when water goes over my head."

He looked at me with a plain expression. "Right. So no experience, then." He shook his head and waded into the water until he was waist-deep. He gestured for me to come towards him.

The water was freezing against my feet, then ankles, then thighs, and eventually up to my mid-torso. A shiver ran down my spine, from both cold and a trickle of fear that'd been with me since childhood.

"Do you know how to float?" Shay asked.

I nodded. "It's about all I can do."

"Alright, then do it." He instructed. I swallowed hard and leaned back, quivering at the feel of cold water on the back of my neck. Shay moved towards me, and I did my best not to panic and right myself.

"Alright, good enough. Now," He took hold of my arms and started moving them. A look of terror must have flashed on my face, because he chuckled. "Just move your arms like that," I did so, and he moved to my legs, moving them as well. "And your legs like that." Despite how ridiculous it felt to have had him moving my legs like I was a puppet, I did as he'd asked for a few moments, then panicked when I felt water get on my face and stood.

"Sorry, sorry, it just- it got on my face." I muttered.

He raised an eyebrow. "You're _surrounded_ by water, of course some's gonna get on your face."

I glared at him. "You being an ass is not helping."

He scoffed. "I'm just pointing out the obvious."

We continued on like this for some time. He'd tell me to do something, I'd panic after something happened that I didn't like, he'd complain-rinse and repeat. It continued for the better part of the day, until he finally said we should eat something.

We spent some time talking, mostly complaining about the Kenways, and discussing the things I was doing wrong in trying to swim. Most of it stemmed around my panicking when water hit my face. I thought it quite understandable, as I'd almost drowned more than once.

The next six days passed like that. We'd eat breakfast, spend time trying to coerce me into properly swimming, eat, talk about what I was doing wrong, again try to get me to swim, eat supper, and then either sleep or talk.

By the final day, I was able to at least stay afloat with some basic strokes, which Shay deemed acceptable-for the time being.

I was more than happy when he said we were going back to Boston.


	59. Chapter 56: On the Road Again

The remaining months before July were spent the same as the first four. Haytham and Connor argued, Shay and I kept the peace, and we barely managed to reach a conclusion by 30 June. Connor and I emerged from the Green Dragon, and headed to the inn we'd taken to staying in to retrieve our bags and our horses. I'd noticed Antony was getting antsy the past couple weeks; it'd been a while since I'd last left Boston.

"So, we're going to your village, then?" I asked Connor as we saddled our mounts.

"Yes. It would be better if you followed my lead, as they will likely be suspicious of you." He replied.

"I can understand that." My hands moved to tighten the cinch, and Antony nickered lowly. "Hush, Ant. We'll be out of here soon enough."

"I am still unsure I can sway their opinion enough." Connor admitted, climbing atop his own horse.

"Well, they sure as hell won't listen to me, Shay, or Haytham. We're not people they know, after all." I climbed up on Antony, patting his neck.

Connor nodded. "I hope for their sakes, that you truly intend to help us by advising this course of action."

I smiled at him sympathetically. "I don't know how to prove it, but I promise that's my goal here." He didn't respond. My smile widened into a grin. "Now, last one out of the city has to cook tonight!"

"That is- hey!" He shouted after me as Antony shot off. I laughed, hearing the hooves of his own horse pounding behind me. I'd learned a few things in my time with Connor: he hated being touched by everyone I knew, I don't think he'd ever fully smiled in my or the other Templars' presence, and he could be really, _really_ competitive.

We raced through the city, people jumping out of our way. He and I were neck and neck by the time we were approaching the gates. We passed through them at the same time, and slowed down, both of our horses seemingly relieved.

"Looks like we're both cooking." I said with a cheeky smile.

He scoffed and rode on ahead.

That night was fairly relaxed, the both of us taking turns to make sure the meat we cooked wouldn't be burned. I talked on and on about inane things while Connor checked his weapons. He scraped a whetstone down the edges of bladed weapons, and cleaned out the pistol he carried. We'd reach Kanatahséton early tomorrow, according to Connor.

"Hey, so, should I refer to you as Ratonhnhaké;ton while we're there or…?" I asked abruptly.

He looked up. "That may be wise. It is my name, after all."

I had another thought as I nodded. "So is there some etiquette I should know about? Or am I just going to learn this by following you around like a lost puppy?"

He rolled his shoulders. "It would be difficult to teach you all the nuances of my culture in one night. Simply show respect to my people as you would anyone else."

"Okay. I just don't want to come off as like… _that_ guy, y'know?" He rose an eyebrow at my words. I started gesturing a bit with my hands. "You know, _that_ guy?"

He shook his head, eyebrow still very much raised.

I sighed. "I don't want them to think I'm just some asinine colonist here to steal their land. Or that I'm just generally an ass."

He rolled his eyes. "I am certain they will not find you to be that much of a nuisance."

I shrugged. "Alright, but if they hate my guts-"

"They will not." He said, and we went back to what we'd been doing before.


	60. Chapter 57: Kanatahséton

The next day, Connor led us off the road and into the woods, a sureness about the way he guided his horse that indicated he knew the area well. I followed, enjoying the quiet of the woods more than I had the clamor of the city.

Soon enough, we were approaching large log walls, and we followed them to an entrance. There, we dismounted, grabbing our things before Connor waved for me to follow him inside.

The place looked just like it had in-game. My gaze flitted around between longhouses and people alike, taking it all in. Many looked at me curiously as I trailed behind Connor. I was still staring at everything when someone called out, "Ratonhnhaké;ton!"

Connor had let his hood down, and he now moved to greet the person coming towards us. After a second, I recognized him as Kanen'tó:kon. He cast a wary glance at me while he and Connor spoke in their language. I continued to look around, feeling more out of place by the second. Kanen'tó:kon's voice took on a hard edge, at some point, apparently arguing with Connor about something. Likewise, Connor seemed more agitated.

Finally the two seemed to back down from their argument for the time being. Connor gestured at me to come towards them.

"Courtney, this is a close friend of mine, Kanen'tó:kon." He introduced.

I smiled at the familiar yet unfamiliar man. "It's nice to meet you."

He dipped his head. "Ratonhnhaké;ton tells me the two of you have been working together."

"For some time, now, yes." I confirmed.

He glanced at Connor, then back to me. "Then you are welcome here, so long as you do not cause trouble."

I nodded. "Thank you. I don't plan to."

He nodded back at me, then said something to Connor in their language.

Connor seemed to agree, and with what I assumed was a goodbye, guided me towards a longhouse, leaving Kanen'tó:kon behind us.

"What were you guys fighting about?" I asked quietly.

"Our reason for being here. He does not like the idea of our land being sold, regardless of the purpose." He replied.

"I doubt anyone really would." I said.

He only nodded and led me into the building.

Only a handful of people were inside-two children who looked at us with wide eyes, and a woman who was working on an as-yet incomplete garment. Connor set his things down on one of the beds lined up along the walls. I did the same with the next one down the line.

"So, who will you need to speak to?" I asked.

"I will speak with the clan mother first. While I am not entirely certain, her word may convince some of the others to go along with Johnson's plans." He removed some things from his pack and set his weapons on the bed before him, getting settled beside them and going back to inspecting his weapons like the night before.

I followed suit. After having gotten comfortable enough, I started removing my weapons from where they were hanging onto me; I wanted to clean and maintain some, just as something to do. First came my bow, closely followed by my quiver. My pistol was laid beside it, the pouch of extra ammunition I carried just to the side. My sword was set down-still sheathed-, and my daggers were removed from the sheaths at my sides.

I picked up one of the daggers and the whetstone I carried in my pack. I spent a good fifteen minutes sharpening both sides of the short blade, switching to its twin when satisfied. Another fifteen minutes passed, and I examined the edges carefully. When I determined it to be sharp enough, it was set down, and my sword picked up. I jumped when I heard a voice calling from the door-a person I didn't recognize, calling for Connor.

He stood and told me to stay around the area before leaving. I refocused my attention on my sword. The blade wasn't as long as some I'd seen, nor as wide, but it worked to my advantage; it was easier for me with my shorter height and limbs to use, and it was lighter than some I'd handled that were built more heavily. The grip was wrapped in dark grey leather and had a simple steel handguard. The times I'd sparred with Haytham using it were the few times I stood a half-way decent chance against him - not that I beat him often.

It took thirty minutes before I set the sword aside. Now, for the hidden blades. I ejected the left smoothly, letting each swipe of the whetstone be far gentler than with the daggers and sword. It never ceased to amaze me how sturdy such a fragile-looking blade could be. I repeated the action with the other blade, taking twenty minutes to sharpen both. With a _snickt_ , they vanished, and I put the whetstone away.

Next came the pistol. It still took me longer than it did Haytham to fully clean the gun, mostly because I constantly worried I would snap some part of it and break it. Another twenty minutes later, it joined the other arms on the ground.

I grabbed both my bow and a small jar from my pack. I unscrewed the lid on the latter, and dipped my fingers in. They came away with a dollop of beeswax, which I carefully smeared on the string, starting from the middle. I set the bow aside when done. The jar was shoved back inside my pack. A simple, five minute process that kept the string strong.

I dragged my quiver towards me, picking one of the nine arrows out of it. A minute was spent appraising it, checking the fletching, the head, the shaft, the knock. When all checked out as being acceptable, I repeated the action with another. Two ended up set aside from the others; one's head needed to be replaced, and the fletching on the other was starting to fray.

Opening a small box revealed it was broken into four sections. Knocks, arrowhead, fletching, and small tools were divided among them. I removed an arrowhead and three strips of fletching, setting them carefully down.

I took a small bottle of adhesive and a set of pliers. I used my hands to gently remove the damaged fletching from one arrow, setting them inside the box, just in case I got desparate one day. A drop of glue was smeared on my finger, then onto each of the new fletchings. Carefully, they were placed onto the shaft, lined up as straight as they possibly could be. I laid the arrow on the bed, leaving the fletched side dangling off just enough that the glue could dry.

A couple minutes of careful tugging and twisting with the pliers popped off the head of the other arrow, and I deposited the remnant into the box. I could sell it to a blacksmith sometime as scrap. It took a few more minutes to attach the new head to the shaft, then set it in the quiver. I checked the arrow I'd replaced the fletching of. It seemed dry enough, so I placed it back in the quiver, too.

I put my weapons back where they'd been-save the bow and quiver- and stretched. It'd been… an hour and a half since he'd left. When would he be back? Should I just… sit around, do nothing? I cast a look over at the woman and the two kids. The children still peered at me when they thought the woman -their mother?- wasn't looking. She would say something to them when she noticed, and they would scamper back to playing some game.

Did she know English, maybe? Surely, it wouldn't hurt to check, right? I continued to reason with myself as I crept closer towards where she sat on a bed. I smiled politely when she looked up at me.

"Um… Hello." I shuffled my feet nervously.

She nodded. "Hello." She waited for me to do or say something else.

I grasped at strings for something, anything to justify my wandering over. My eyes rested on the needle of animal bone held in her hand. "I was… I was wondering if I could watch you sew?"

She looked at me curiously for a moment, then scooted over. "I suppose you may." I took a seat beside her, grateful to have something to do other than sit around. I watched as she worked the needle and thread, the movements of her hands graceful, as though she'd done this a hundred times before.

Eventually, she spoke again. "Have you never sewn before?" Her eyes didn't move from where they were glued to the needle.

"I have, I'm just not that great at it. You're much better than I am." My skills were limited to rushed attempts to patch up a hole in a piece of clothing.

She looked at me, amused. "Would you like to learn?"

I nodded eagerly. "It'd be more than appreciated, ma'am." She smiled. She turned to look at the kids, and said something I didn't understand. When she looked back to me, a softer smile was on her face and she was shaking her head.

"Children." She said simply. We laughed, causing one of the kids to say something in an indignant tone.

I spent a good couple of hours struggling with the needle and being corrected by the kind woman. We made jokes, and she would occasionally turn to tell the kids-who slowly made their way outside-something in their language. I resolved to at least _try_ to learn how to speak it at some point. She told me to refer to her as Amé, as most of the colonists did. The two children were her and her sister's sons: hers was the four year old and her sister's the seven year old.

I was helping -distracting, if I was being honest- Amé sew a pair of deerskin leggings by the time Connor returned. It was nighttime, and the firelight was all that showed his mildly surprised expression. He approached us and stopped a couple feet away.

Amé dipped her head to him in greeting. She said something short in their language, then started speaking in English-for my benefit, I guessed. "Your friend is bad at sewing." She smiled.

"I was not aware." He replied. "I take it she has not caused you any grief, then?"

She looked down at the garment we'd been working on. "I may grieve over the quality of her needle-work, but otherwise no."

The corners of his lips turned upward. I turned to Amé with mock offense written on my face. "It's not _that_ bad, is it?"

"It is." She replied. One of the boys ran in and started speaking to her quickly and urgently.

Amé sighed and stood. She nodded to Connor and turned to me. "They need help with something." She explained. "I am afraid I must go."

Her son tugged her towards the door as I responded. "That's fine. Goodbye, Amé."

"Goodbye." And with that, she was out the door, saying something to the boy as they walked.

Connor and I were quiet for a moment. His voice actually startled me when he did speak. "I am glad to see you are getting along with people."

I shrugged. "It's not that hard. Just a bit… daunting- at first. I was worried I'd do something wrong-socially speaking, I mean."

"As I said, merely show us respect, and we will do the same." He got up and walked to his bed. I followed after, more than happy to eat and get some sleep.

"So what'd you get called away for?" I asked.

"The clan mother wished to see me. I talked to her about our plans." He threw his pack on the shelf above the bed he'd evidently claimed for the night.

"And?" I prompted, copying him.

"And it may take some time to convince the others to agree." He said.

I wasn't surprised.


	61. Chapter 58: Socialization

The next morning, I was woken by Connor prodding what I was sure was my liver. With a groan, I turned on my side. That only prompted him to jab his hand into my spine. My entire body screamed in protest when I sat up a bit too quickly.

"What is it?" I asked groggily.

"The clan mother would like to speak with us. _Both_ of us." He stepped just outside, where it was still fairly dark. I clambered off the bed, straightening out my shirt and breeches. The rest of my clothing was pulled on, and my weapons left on my bed-the hidden blades being the only exceptions. I doubted many people would react well to me walking around heavily armed. The hidden blades were merely cautionary.

Connor was waiting for me outside, and led me through the village. A few people were up as well, mostly doing work and preparing for breakfast. Amé smiled at me when we passed her, and I gave her a little wave. Then, Connor and I entered a longhouse.

It was about identical to the other one. An elderly woman sat beside a fire, and she smiled at us as we grew closer to her.

"Ratonhnhaké;ton has told me about you." She said warmly. I glanced at him, and she continued speaking. "He says you are from the future." _Seriously? He had to tell you that part?_

I nodded. "More than 200 years into the future, yes."

"He has said you foretold us being forced to leave our land if the events you remember take place." She stated. I nodded. Her expression fell. "Do you know how to change our fate?"

I inhaled deeply. "I don't know a _certain_ way, just what happened in my timeline." I paused. "All I know is something has to go differently, or it'll all end the same, anyway."

She nodded, and looked at me for a moment. "You wish to help us?"

"Yes. I think that what happened in my timeline was wrong, and... even if I'm not sure how this will end, I mean well." I shifted in my place as I answered.

She smiled once more. "If your words are true then you have my thanks for your attempts." I smiled back before she continued speaking. "Ratonhnhaké;ton says you believe that selling our land to William Johnson will protect us. How?"

"William wishes to protect your people. If he were to own the land on paper, he would be able to protect you from other colonists and the British. Neither would be able to try to claim your land as theirs, as it would already be claimed and documented as such by their own laws." I said.

"But it would still be his land." She said slowly.

"Only on paper." I answered. "You would still be the ones to live here, and you would be under his protection. If someone were to threaten you, William could call in higher authorities to settle the issue-as opposed to you needing to risk the lives of your own people."

Connor leaned towards me and said under his breath, "The revolution."

I gave him a tiny nod. "There's also the issue of the brewing conflict between the British and the colonists. If war breaks out-as it did in my timeline-, you may be forced to either pick a side or abandon your land due to ongoing battles." She nodded, and I continued. "With William's resources, you would gain protection from soldiers that were not your own. If your people so wanted, they could assist, but it would not be needed."

She thought about it for some time. "Was this war why were forced to leave?"

"Its results were." I said.

She was quiet for a long moment. Her eyes were somber when she looked at me again. "You believe that he would treat us well? That we would be happy with him owning the land we live upon?"

"I know William personally. He wants only your people's safety." I assured.

"I will trust you on this." She said gravely. "For the sake of all the people in this village, I hope that you speak the truth." She nodded to Connor, and said something to him in their language.

He replied, and stood, bowing his head to her, gesturing for me to follow as he left. I dipped my head and smiled to the clan mother as we left, and she smiled back.

When we'd exited the longhouse, Connor spoke. "She and I will be speaking to some of those who will be present at the negotiations over the next few days. It may be a good idea to acquaint yourself with some of the people here."

"I guess it'd be kind of pointless for me to be there to try and help her when I can't even speak your language, huh?" I looked around. Our conversation with the clan mother had been relatively short, but there were already more people out and about.

"Most likely." He said.

"'Most certainly,' you mean." I grinned at him. He side-eyed me.

"Yes, most certainly." He said dryly.

"So, do I just… wander around, try not to step on anyone's toes while I'm here?" I asked.

"Try to talk to some of them. Many here know at least some English due to the growing proximity of the colonists." A hint of bitterness laced the last of his words. I'd be pretty angry if people were putting those I cared about in danger, too.

"Alright. I'll just… leech off of Amé's social interaction, then." I said as he walked away. It took a few minutes to locate Amé, where she sat around a fire with two other women, and laughed at something. My body halted, as I was suddenly unsure if I would be intruding on something. Amé caught sight of me, and waved me over enthusiastically. Grateful and convinced she was quite possibly a goddess of mercy, I made my way over to her and the other two women.

"I was just talking about you to my friends." She said as I sat beside them. "They think your…" She struggled to find the right word for a moment. "Ineptitude with a needle is funny."

Rolling my eyes didn't stop me from grinning. "If it's _that_ funny, then please, continue speaking about it. But at least introduce me to them first. I want to know who's laughing at me."

"You may call her Tia," She indicated the woman on the right, then the woman on the left. "And her you may call Jen."

Jen was giggling. "I saw your work earlier. It is... well, it is awful."

Tia nudged Jen with a scornful look, then turned to me with an apologetic smile. "You cannot be good at everything."

"True. I just hope I don't get a rip in any of my clothes. It'd be pretty embarrassing to walk around with a tear in my pants, looking for some kindly soul to take pity on poor me." I put a bit more dramatic flair into my words than was entirely necessary.

Jen was laughing as she replied. "I can imagine!"

We settled into a comfortable conversation, and my worries about slipping up due to cultural differences lessened-though they lingered, still. I spent the rest of the day assisting them with their farm work, trying to make use of myself. They thanked me for my efforts by the time we all departed to the longhouses to sleep for the night.

Connor looked up as I walked in and nodded at me. "You seem happy."

I smiled as I sat down on the bed I'd claimed for the time being. "I'd forgotten how nice it was to be surrounded by people that _weren't_ grumpy old men."

He looked at me with annoyance. " _I_ am not an old man."

I shrugged. "No, but you argue with them constantly. Sometimes you sound like one when you do."

His brow furrowed. "I do not."  
I smirked. "You _definitely_ do. Mostly when you're arguing with Haytham."

He decided to change the subject. "What are you to my father?"

I looked at him. "What do you mean?"

He seemed to almost regret asking the question now. "He speaks highly of you, and seems to have a certain amount of faith in you and your abilities. Yet, he seems very… protective of you."

I rose an eyebrow. "'Protective?'"

"He dislikes others speaking ill of you. Once, one of your brothers in arms joined us at the Green Dragon. He voiced his… _distaste_ for you working so closely with the Grandmaster of the Order despite your short time as a Templar. My father's reply was… sharp, to say the least." He busied himself with searching for something in his pack-a nervous habit, if i had to guess.

I'd known Haytham must have thought I was at least of some worth to have even invited me into the Order, but I hadn't known he was… "protective" of me, as Connor'd put it. That was new information.

"Oh." I said quietly. I cleared my throat. "I'm his apprentice. I guess he just dislikes the idea of someone he's trained being insulted -maybe sees it as an insult to him, since it might suggest he made a mistake in choosing to put his time and effort in me ."

"I see." He murmured. "And you?"

"What about me?" I questioned.

"What is he to you?" He clarified.

I thought about it for a second. "I… I guess he's my mentor and Grandmaster?"

"The way you speak to him suggests he is more. What?" He pressed.

I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to figure out just what it was he was asking. "Get to the point, Con. What exactly do you mean?"

He sighed. "Do you think of him as… as family?" He asked finally, searching my face desperately.

The question caught me off guard. "I… In a way?" His eyes were still on me, waiting for me to say something more. I looked away and continued to speak. "Look, my family -my biological family, the people responsible for me being born- they weren't… they weren't always that good to me, alright? Father wasn't around a lot, mother was manipulative and abusive to both of us." The word "abusive" felt strange on my tongue. But I was coming to realize it was accurate for what my mother had put me -and my father, to a lesser extent- through.

I sighed and kept speaking. "Haytham doesn't treat me like they did. He's harsh and he's a bit cold a lot of the time, but he treats me like I matter. Even if he isn't always the 'nicest' to those around him, he's not… _bad_ , not in comparison to my old family -not that they set the bar terribly high." I looked away from him. "It's just… It's nice to feel like someone values you, y'know?"

His hand on my shoulder caused me to jump. He'd sat down on the bed next to me without my noticing. Now, we sat in silence, his hand still resting where he'd laid it. This was the closest we'd been without him threatening to kill me. After a short while, he retracted his hand.

When he spoke, his words were quiet. "My words may mean little, but I hope that whatever happens, you are happy where you end up."

I stared at him, touched by the sentiment. "They mean a lot more than you think. I wish the same for you."

The barest of smiles touched his lips. "Thank you. For both that, and for helping me understand my father better-even if only a little."

My smile was much larger than his own. "Hey, if it keeps me from hearing you two arguing again, I'm happy to help."

"I am sure we will continue to bicker as we have these past months." He replied.

I groaned. "You know what? I take it back, I'm not happy to help."


	62. Chapter 59: Johnson Hall

The next week passed quickly, my time spent mostly among the Kanien'kehá ka or -occasionally- wandering the woods around Kanatahséton. I did my best to steer clear of the hunters and the wildlife, not wanting to interfere.

Once, late at night, Connor and I got into a conversation about religion. It was… interesting, to say the least. I was curious about the religion he and his people practiced, and Connor was surprised to find that my own beliefs mirrored his own much more than they did the colonists.

As we talked, we came to find animism and a certain reverence for nature were important to both of our respective beliefs. I had discussed my religion with Haytham before, but it mostly concerned my practice. I hadn't gotten a chance in quite a while to talk about the details to someone who shared at least some basic beliefs. The idea of good and evil in his people's own religion was… odd to me. That's not to say I didn't respect it, merely that our views differed.

The next night, he asked about what I did specifically to practice, and I explained some of the rituals I performed on sabbats and esbats. I showed him a handful of the many sigils I had designed, tracing them out in the dirt and explaining their meaning. He listened attentively throughout it all. At the end, he explained some of the celebrations his people held, the importance of them and the activities and rituals they performed. I think we grew closer over our discussions; if his comfort with sitting in closer proximity to me was any indication, he had the same idea.

Now, it was 9 July. In two days, William would be negotiating with the Kanien'kehá ka, and Connor and I would see if our actions had had any effect at all. We bid those in Kanatahséton farewell, and traveled to Johnson Hall on horseback.

We arrived the same day, due to the short distance between the two places. The guards let us through without issue-Connor because he was Kanien'kehá ka, and me because William had already told them I was an associate of his.

As we approached the house, I took note of how many were already here. Soldiers patrolled the area diligently, while some of the Kanien'kehá ka were milling about, discussing things in hushed voices.

We dismounted, and led our horses over towards a trough. We tied them; with any luck, a quick escape would not be necessary. I led Connor towards the building, where William would, with any luck, be waiting.

The guards narrowed their eyes at us as we approached. My name was all it took to get in -a fact that made me swell with a bit of pride-, and we were led to William.

He sat at a desk, scribbling furiously on a paper and muttering under his breath.

"You have visitors, sir." The guard who had accompanied us said.

William looked up, a mix of relief and apprehension flashing across his tired face at the sight of Connor and I.

He looked to the guard. "If you would, leave us." The guard left the way we'd come, shutting the door behind him.

"How fare the negotiations, William?" I asked as I walked towards the desk.

"Better than I feared, worse than I hoped." He said. "We're making progress, to be sure, but whether it will be enough has yet to be seen."

I jerked my head back towards Connor. "He's talked to his people the past few days, vouched for you. It might not be much, but hopefully It'll be the nudge they need."

William studied Connor for a moment. "Thank you." His voice was careful.

"Do not thank me until the negotiations are over with." Connor stepped closer. "And keep in mind that should you bring harm to any of my people, you will answer to my blade."

William gave him a tiny nod. "I wish no harm upon you or your people, I promise."

"That has yet to be seen." Connor said, backing away once more.

"True enough." William replied.

"What would you like us to do while we're here?" I asked, grateful enough that I hadn't had to end an argument as I had so many times in the past few months.

He turned to Connor. "I would appreciate it if you would act as a translator. It would be even more appreciated if you continued to voice your support."

Connor crossed his arms. "I will assist with the first task. The second will be decided by your own actions."

William glanced between Connor and I. "The task I have for you is better discussed in private, Courtney."

Connor's eyes narrowed beneath his hood. My height was the only thing that allowed me to notice it. I cleared my throat. "If I can hear it, then Connor can hear it as well."

William hesitated for a second, then nodded. "Very well." He opened a drawer, pulled out an envelope, and walked to me. It was placed in my hand as he talked. "It seems someone disagrees with the negotiations, and has hired an unknown number of men to interfere in the coming days. I would like you to handle the issue."

I ejected a hidden blade and sliced the envelope open-a habit Haytham often discouraged. My eyes skimmed over the words on the page, and I nodded. It looked like I'd be working on my birthday. "Consider it done."

William clapped a hand on my back. "I knew you could be counted on." He walked back to his desk, and returned to his desk. "Return here when you finish."

"I was thinking about strolling over to New York to buy this season's latest in dresses, but I guess I can change my plans." I joked. He shook his head without saying a word, accustomed to my remarks by now.

Connor followed me out. "I suppose we will not see each other until either tomorrow or the next day."

"Looks that way." I replied, walking back towards Antony. "Hunting down enemies on my birthday-fun!"

Connor looked at me. "You turn eighteen tomorrow?"

"Yep! We'll be the same age again-yay!" I drew out the "yay" in an over enthusiastic tone.

His eyebrows did this funny little thing, where one raised, then he alternated them a couple times. I giggled at it, and his eyebrows furrowed. "What is so funny?"

"Nothing, nothing. Anyway, see you later, sweetie." I left him behind, and untied Antony. I climbed atop him, and set off for the destination the paper had written on it.


	63. Chapter 60: 7 Mercenaries 1 Templar

I didn't bother traveling to an inn after night fell. I got comfortable in a denser area of the forest, and ate a supper of dried fruit, jerky, and bread. Antony was roaming the area around me, grazing on whatever unfortunate plants looked nice enough to eat.

The next day I ate a breakfast of the same sort of food, and set off toward Concord.

I found the would-be hitmen camping beside the stream forming the border between Concord and Valley Forge. They didn't bear the red of soldiers, and they certainly didn't carry themselves the same way. They had to have been mercenaries, then.

They spoke in what I'd figured was most likely German. None of the seven I counted seemed to notice me in the trees above them, instead readying their weapons, tending to their horses, and eating.

One called out something over his shoulder, then walked towards the woods. He cast glances around him, as though he was worried he might be ambushed. As I followed from above, it struck me that it was actually kind of funny that nobody ever bothered to look up.

He was unbuttoning his breeches to relieve himself when I dropped from the trees and sunk a hidden blade into his back. The only sound he made was strangled and smothered by dirt as his face slammed into the forest floor. My hands searched through his clothing while I calmed my heart. It still made my pulse race when I took a life. Finding nothing more than some crumpled bills and coins, I picked up his body with a grunt, and deposited it several meters away in some bushes. Once I was satisfied his corpse was obscured from view, I returned to the trees ever so slightly richer than I had been.

Six of the men remained. I leaned my shoulder against the trunk of the tree I was standing in, waiting for someone to go investigate what was taking their friend so long to relieve himself. Finally, one made a comment to another, and the two got up to search for him. They laughed at a joke one had made, and delved into the woods. Once again, they were oblivious to the fact that they were being followed.

They milled about the area I'd just killed their colleague in, occasionally calling out the name "Lars" and sighing irritably when they didn't get an answer. To my distaste, they tended to stay a fair distance from each other, making it impossible to take them out at one time. Once again, I waited for a good opportunity.

Finally, one approached the other, and they looked out towards the woods together. One shouted in pain when I embedded my hidden blades into their backs. I dove towards a group of bushes and hid. The other four arrived shortly after. They examined the two bodies for just a moment before they started prowling around, searching for the murderer. They did a shoddy job of it, as I slowly made my way back towards their camp.

I moved quickly when I made it there. The fire was still going, a pot suspended above it full of a stew. My hands removed a piece of wood that had only caught flame on one end. I moved from one tent to another, setting all three ablaze. The horses started to paw at the ground and whinny nervously, giving me another idea.

I untied them, slapping their flanks and sending them galloping away. Shouting drew my attention again, and the mercenaries just missed me diving into the cover of some bushes. They frantically tried to stop the flames, panicking and yelling at one another.

The chaos gave me the opportunity to slowly draw my sword and impale the one closest to me. Two didn't notice as they fretted over the flames, while one drew his pistol with trembling hands. My feet moved more quickly than his hands, and his shot went wide while blood spurted from the puncture wound in his chest.

The shot drew the attention of the remaining two. My free hand unholstered the pistol at my side and cocked it while my opponents drew their own weapons-for one, a sword, for the other, an axe.

The one with the axe stumbled back with a cry of pain when I shot. He clutched at his stomach, the axe falling from his hands. I didn't have time to try and reload when the other rushed towards me, swinging his sword at me.

I dodged him, and parried a thrust. He leapt back from a thrust of my own, and fainted to my left. He slashed at me again, and I ducked underneath his strike, slicing through his pants and opening up a gash on his leg.

I ducked back down as quickly as I'd risen, narrowly avoiding being beheaded by an axe. The other man had returned, and while he was slow, he was also angry.

I holstered my pistol as I backed away from them. They came at me at the same time. I spun away from the axe, and my hidden blade on my empty hand slid out. It slashed the swordsman's other leg, causing him to drop to his knees in pain. I followed the motion with a single thrust of my sword, skewering the downed man.

I pushed him off my blade with a foot and turned back to the axeman. He was looking around, now, terrified. He threw down his axe and started to run, his movements impaired by the bullet he'd taken earlier.

My legs moved much faster than his, and I ran him through with my sword. His last cry was strained, quieter than his heavy panting had been. My own breathing was hard. The fight had been the most difficult one I'd had to date, and I felt a trickle of pride that I'd come out of it without a scratch. Haytham's lessons in swordplay had payed off.

I searched the still-warm corpses, finding only a letter in scrawled ink that indicated who had hired them.

It was stashed away in my coat pocket. I grabbed the pot full of stew, and threw it on one of the tents. After a few trips to the stream and back, the flames had died. The pot fell from my hands and I exhaled deeply. At least that was taken care of. The last thing anyone needed was for a section of the forest to be needlessly burned down.

I traveled back to Concord, where I'd left Antony, and started to make my way back to Johnson hall.


	64. Chapter 61: Negotiations

By the time Antony and I had returned to Johnson Hall, the sun was just starting to set. I unsaddled him, deciding that we likely wouldn't have to go anywhere for at least a day. No reason to keep him uncomfortable until then.

I made my way to the building. A flash of white caught my eye; Connor, talking to a few Kanien'kehá ka and a few colonists, translating between them. When I caught his eye, he nodded to me before returning to the conversation. I opened the heavy doors to the building, and was greeted by two guards.

A different man than last time led me to William, this time herding me to a dining room. William looked up at our entrance, and dismissed the guard. He remained sitting, and I joined him.

"I assume you were successful?" He said before taking a long sip drink of tea.

"Yes. I recovered this," I retrieved the letter from my coat and handed it to William. "It says a man named Jules Delacroix hired them. I don't suppose it rings any bells?"  
His eyes skimmed the paper. A sigh left him as he tucked it away in his own coat. "Yes, unfortunately. He traveled here from France just a few years ago. He gambled quite a bit, won by cheating, and eventually amassed a sizable fortune. He ended up buying some land outside of Williamsburg, Virginia."

"Do you think he'll continue to be an issue?" I asked.

"Not for the time being. It had to have cost him a fair bit of money to hire the men you dispatched. He's unlikely to get word about his mercenaries' failure any time soon, aside from anyone who carries word of any success we have tomorrow.." He hesitated. "It may not hurt if you were to stay in the vicinity, keep an eye out for anyone who looks… suspicious."

My hands folded together on the table in front of me. "Only during negotiations?"

"That would be the prime time to strike. It would certainly send a message." He nodded, more to himself than to me. "You can go, now; I have to finish my meal. Then I have to fill out more paperwork and meet privately with several of the Iroquois leaders."

"Have fun, William." I said as I left.

Once I was outside, my eyes began to scour the area for Connor. He had moved to the other side of the clearing, separating himself from the rest of those present. My footsteps faltered as I grew closer, unsure of whether or not he would welcome me. He dipped his head towards me, and I closed the distance between us.

"So, how's acting as a translator been treating you?" I asked.

"While several of the Iroquois leaders are beginning to consider, it will take quite some time to convince them all to sell." He answered.

"Do you think they will?" My weight shifted from foot to foot.

He was quiet for a moment. "So long as Johnson is honest in his dealings, I am sure they will concede eventually."

"You don't sound very sure." I murmured.

"Likely because I am not." He admitted lowly.

For a split second I went to hug him, but I remembered we still weren't quite on hugging terms. My arms fell, and instead I smiled sadly at him. "If nothing else, there's a chance."

He nodded absentmindedly. "I pray that it is enough."

Night fell quickly. Connor and I settled separately from the other occupants of the field, preferring the quiet to the hushed whispers among those present.

My body was draped across the sleeping bag I now used as a mattress. It was far too warm to be used as anything else during New England summers. Connor sat a few feet away, tending to the meat being cooked above the fire, occasionally throwing in another bit of wood to feed the flames.

I watched him through narrowed eyes. The moment was peaceful-a sharp contrast to what I'd been doing just that morning. A shiver ran down my spine and a shuddering breath escaped me at the memory. It had dawned on me over the time I'd been training under Haytham that humans were just so incredibly fragile. We could be broken from a myriad of things, and most of which we didn't even consider dangerous.

Connor's eyes were on me now, his attention drawn by my shaky exhalation.

"How long until supper's done?" I sat up and stretched.

"Not long." He said, eyeing me. "What troubles you?" He never did like to beat around the bush.

I shrugged. "Nothing. Just thinking about things." I stared at the fire. "People are really easy to kill."

He hummed. "Yes, I suppose so."

"It's kinda scary when you think about it for too long." I toyed with the hem of my coat.

He glanced at me. "Your time is better spent dwelling on other things."

I snorted. "Yeah, I know." A long pause. "Do you ever second guess yourself? Like, when it comes to killing people?"

He sighed deeply. "Yes. It would be more worrying if I did not, I think."

"Glad I'm not the only one." I said quietly.

After a few minutes, Connor announced that the meat was done, and we ate it along with bread and vegetables. There wasn't much conversation, and Connor looked to be drifting to sleep-until I talked again.

"Hey, don't those clouds look like a bear?" I pointed at a dark mass, barely illuminated by the thin sliver of the waxing moon.

His eyes opened. "They look closer to a cougar."

"Cougar's don't have that many muscles." I glanced away from the sky briefly. "Do they?"

"Bears don't have tails that long." He commented.

"Okay, but maybe this one bear just so happens to have a longer-than-average tail. Just this one." I was hiding a smile.

"Just this one." He repeated.

"Yes." I said firmly.

He made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan and rolled over. "Goodnight, Courtney."

I huffed as I got more comfortable on the sleeping bag. "Goodnight, Connor."

The next day passed in a haze of bickering and heat. My perch atop the building gave me a lovely vantage point, but also left me sitting directly in the sun. Sweat was dripping down my face, my neck, my torso-every part of my body that was capable of producing sweat.

Connor was moving among the Iroquois present, sometimes interjecting in the seemingly endless negotiating with a comment of his own.

William seemed to be growing more agitated the longer the talking drew on. I was worried he would command the mercenaries and soldiers present to fire on the Iroquois-just like in the game. It was the last thing we needed, to say the least.

We'd known it would take time to convince the Iroquois nations that this was a wise decision, but tension grew as time passed, and voices would raise and lower without warning. My nerves started doing a dance early on into the negotiations. William's occasional stumbling and small fits of wheezing here and there didn't help. He wasn't ill, was he?

My fears had been banished when, finally, several members announced they would sell. A few looked bitter over the decision, but others seemed to be acting aloof. William was relieved, and invited some inside the building to finalize the deal. It all felt a bit… anticlimactic. Perhaps I'd been just a bit too prepared for things to go awry. Connor looked up at me, and I dropped to the ground on the side of the building.

"I assume you know what happens now." He said as he approached me.

"Yes." I looked him over. "How do you feel about it?"

He sighed deeply. "While I am hoping for the best, I have my doubts."

I lightly touched his upper arm in what I hoped was a comforting gesture, still not sure how he'd feel about physical contact from me. He didn't flinch away, and I took that as a good sign. I wasn't quite sure what to say after that, so we instead began packing our things, preparing to go our separate ways after everyone else had left.


	65. Epilogue

People started departing as soon as business was done. There were only a handful left by the time the sun began to set once more. When William exited Johnson Hall after the last of the Iroquois leaders, he motioned for Connor and me to follow him inside, all but dragging himself through the halls as he led us.

Once the doors of the study closed behind us, William turned to us.

"I understand that assisting those you see as enemies must be difficult. I thank you for your assistance." He said to Connor.

Connor held his chin high as he responded. "My warning from before still stands. The people of these lands will be treated well, or you will be the one to pay."

William nodded. "You need not worry, I assure you."

Connor's eyes narrowed. "We will see."

William looked to me. "Now that business here is concluded, someone will have to take care of Jules Delacroix."

"I don't think I'll be busy for…" I counted in my head. "The next nine months. I could handle him."

"Who is Jules Delacroix?" Connor interrupted.

"He hired the mercenaries I killed yesterday." I said.

"You will be pursuing him then?" Connor asked.

"Pursuing and killing, if necessary." William answered. "While I doubt he intends to interfere soon, he may become a problem if he goes unattended."

My hands clasped behind me. "I assume it'd be best for me to leave as soon as necessary."

"Yes. There's no telling if or when he'll make himself an issue again." William sat behind his desk, beginning to shuffle through papers.

"And what of me?" Connor asked.

William glanced up, looking unsure. I made my way out, missing the remainder of the conversation between the two of them.

I had to get ready for another adventure.

By the time Connor had exited as well, Antony was saddled and eating an apple from my hand. The reddish brown horse whinnied in greeting as Connor got closer.

"Johnson suggested I ask you for direction." He stood beside me.

"Me?" I pointed at myself in disbelief.

"You." He confirmed.

"Um… Nothing happens until April of next year that I know of…" I thought for a moment. "I guess just… do whatever you feel like for the time being?" He raised an eyebrow. I shrugged in response. "I mean, we'll have to talk to a few members of the order- _my_ order-at some point, but aside from that, I can't think of anything. Maybe try to assist in the growth of the Brotherhood?"

He nodded absentmindedly. A few seconds passed before he hesitantly asked a question. "Would you mind if I accompanied you on your mission?"

I looked at him curiously. "You can come if you want, but I'm not sure why you'd want to."

"The man who hired those mercenaries wished to sabotage something involving the Kanien'kehá ka. If nothing else, I think it would interest me to see why he did so." He answered.

I considered his answer. It was logical. And it couldn't hurt to have backup if things went horribly awry, especially backup that was twice my size and could be called a walking armory. "I suppose that makes sense." I smiled at him. "Looks like we're going on another road trip together, doll."

In a matter of minutes, he'd gathered his own things and we were on the road. We spent our nights camped out in the forest, talking about this and that. Conversation flowed much more freely between us than it had in the past. It was a nice change from how soft-spoken he'd been in the beginning of our knowing each other. It made me reflect on how oddly, but nicely, our relationship had developed-considering it had started with a theft and a death threat.

The future looked a little brighter, even if we weren't quite done with our work.


	66. End Book I

While this is the end of this part of the story, it will be continued. In roughly two weeks, I'll begin publishing the sequel.

I would have simply added on to this one some more, but I felt that with 61 chapter + a prologue and epilogue, it was already getting a bit long.

I'll leave a note of it here when I do begin publishing the sequel. I look forward to continuing Courtney's story, and would appreciate any feedback you might have!


	67. Book II

Book II is up! Check out my profile for the first chapter!


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